


Hello Darkness

by daydreaming_out_loud



Series: In The Dark [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: A small amount of smut, Carolyn is taking names, Dark Irina rising, Eve and her red wine, F/F, Geraldine is still here, Hélène is a bad bitch, I see darkness in everyone, Kenny lives on, Konstantin's heart might explode, Music by Unloved, Post Season 3, The Bitter Pill is a mess, Villanelle is cheeky as always, gun erotica, season 4, soft villaneve, this is getting dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 102,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreaming_out_loud/pseuds/daydreaming_out_loud
Summary: Inextricably tied by the red thread of fate, Eve and Villanelle court danger trying to take down The Twelve to be free from their grip for good.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: In The Dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985116
Comments: 173
Kudos: 229





	1. Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Eve and Villanelle allow their paths to collide, Carolyn carries on with the hunt for intel on the Twelve with help from the Bitter Pill while Konstantin continues to try to make a break for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt at a season 4 for Killing Eve!
> 
> If you want to listen to the music, you'll have to start each song when you come across it then pause it when the scene ends. Unfortunately the playlist isn't set up to be a continuous soundtrack where the songs all line up where they are supposed to (that would be amazing). But I still recommend reading with the music because it adds another layer of emotion!
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Carnival – Unloved  
> Her – Unloved  
> Danger – Unloved  
> Laisse Tomber Les Filles – France Gall  
> Sigh – Unloved  
> Tell Mama – Unloved  
> Xpectations - Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: Now What?](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pl8ta8qhx9SAAGEmJm9XK?si=2_x063z9TAGrUuy8h4y88Q)

**LONDON**  
Eve walks, her body trembling. Blurry images of her and Villanelle’s moments together rush around her mind. Her heart races, pounding against her chest as she desperately tries to get her mind to settle, confirming she’s making the right decision.

Her breath becomes shallow as emotions grow and swirl inside her. She wants to cry, but the tears linger in her eyes, unable to fall.

Her legs become heavier, refusing to let her walk farther. A feeling deep inside her comes to the surface as she pieces together her fragmented thoughts.

She cannot take another step further.

Villanelle’s face flickers in her mind. Her eyes, her smile, the way she says “Eve.”

Eve cannot bear the thought of not seeing her again. She cannot continue to walk away. She turns slowly, the cool air rippling across her face, to see Villanelle frozen, her back to her.

Villanelle’s heart falters as she prepares to look over her shoulder. She wants so desperately to see Eve looking at her, but she readies herself for heartbreak. She inhales a ragged breath as tears come to her eyes, they so easily do now. She clenches her jaw to brace herself, expecting to see Eve’s figure fading into the distance.

Eve’s heart beats so hard it nearly hurts. Panic rises in her. She suddenly doubts her decision to turn around, anxiously wondering if Villanelle will turn too. She wants to call out to her, but her throat won’t allow a sound. Her body is fixed in place, her thoughts suspended, as she waits for Villanelle’s next move.

Villanelle summons her last bit of strength, all that is left inside her, and turns.

Reprieve moves through her. Her eyes fix on Eve’s expression, a blend of hurt and panic, yearning.

She gives a weak smile; Eve didn’t walk away.

Then confusion washes over her; the tears grow in her eyes. She wanted this, but wasn’t expecting it.

Sounds drifting away from Eve as a low ringing takes over in her ears. She inhales a shallow breath, then another. Villanelle is staring at her, but doesn’t move.

Anguish rushes through Eve. Her body shakes as her emotions brim over, compelling her to take a step forward.

But Villanelle does not step with her.

Villanelle's vision blurs and narrows to only Eve’s figure, dimly lit by the full moon as darkness creeps in her periphery. She creases her brow, why did Eve turn around?

Eve takes another step, a tear streaming down her cheek.

Why isn’t Villanelle moving?

Doubt works its way into her mind again, but she is certain that this is what she wants now. Villanelle is what she wants.

Yet across the way Villanelle struggles to comprehend what’s just happened. Her thoughts are rapid and frantic. Why didn’t Eve walk away? Why did she turn around? Why would she want me? Why would anyone want me? I’m a monster.

Eve takes another step as tears well up in both eyes. She feels the heaviness in her legs and yet it’s almost as if she’s floating at the same time.

Villanelle tilts her head, the confusion turning into agony. Why Eve? Why are you walking back towards me when you know what I am? A tear falls down her cheek. Her body quivers and suddenly she wants to scream. A lump forms in her throat as she swallows hard. Eve.

Eve can feel Villanelle’s uncertainty, but she’s surer now, confident that this is exactly what she wants. It’s always been what she wanted, but she couldn’t let it in just yet. It had always been too out of reach.

But not now.

Villanelle is standing before her and this time she won’t let her get away. Refuses for that to be an option.

A surge rises through Eve and she takes a step, then another, determined.

Villanelle leans away slightly, a feeling so foreign to her rising from deep within. Her palms sweat. Her heart races faster than she’s ever felt before. She can feel the blood draining from her head and wonders if she might faint.

Her vision blurs further.

What is happening?

Her eyes catch Eve take another step.

Is she saying something?

Villanelle’s hands slowly clench into fists then relax. She can feel the dampness of the sweat.

Tears stream down Eve's cheeks as she takes steps in succession, slowly and unsteady. She tries to find her voice, but her throat is clamped shut.

Her body pulls her closer to Villanelle.

“Villanelle,” she calls out, her voice weak yet pleading.

A sudden burst of clarity hits Villanelle so hard she gasps. This feeling is fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing another person from her life. Fear of being totally alone. But Eve is still here, walking towards her.

Eve.

Villanelle’s vision returns to her. She can see Eve approaching her, a look of distress on her face.

“Eve!”

She forces her legs to move, taking a step, then another.

Eve picks up her pace.

“Villanelle!” her voice breaks as tears continue to fall down her cheeks.

Villanelle wills her legs to move faster. She breaks free from her thoughts and acts on impulse. Desire.

She moves faster than Eve now, closing the distance that’s left between them. Eve can hardly see through the blur, but she knows Villanelle is coming to her. Villanelle is coming back for her.

Eve smiles wide and Villanelle matches her smile as she takes the final strides.

“Eve.”

Villanelle collides with Eve and they embrace.

She wraps her arms around Eve drawing her into her body as Eve clutches her tightly, burying herself into her. She nuzzles against the crook of Villanelle's neck, feeling her warm skin as Villanelle nestles into her curls, inhaling her scent. They melt into each other, tears rolling down their cheeks.

Slowly, their breathing slowly returns to normal. The outside world comes back into perception.

Eve doesn’t want to pull away, but she wants to look into Villanelle’s eyes, wants to know what she’s feeling.

Villanelle feels Eve loosen her grasp and allows herself to do the same, following Eve’s lead. Eve remains close, one hand on Villanelle’s waist as the other caresses her cheek.

“I’m here,” she says, her voice clear and earnest.

Villanelle nods and swallows hard, furrowing her brow to try to stifle the tears. Eve gently strokes her cheek with her thumb, feeling the wetness from her tears. She tenderly wipes them away.

“I’m here, Villanelle.”

Villanelle can only manage a grin, but it reaches her eyes forming creases on the outer corners. Another tear falls and Eve wipes it away.

They rest their foreheads together and close their eyes, letting each other in. Villanelle takes a deep breath trying to control her emotions but it falters on the way out.

“I didn’t know if you would come back.”

Eve breathes out a small laugh and Villanelle can feel her warm breath, taste it. She nuzzles her nose against Eve’s making her grin. Eve's heart races faster as she knows what’s coming next.

Villanelle smiles then makes her move. Her lips quiver slightly as they meet Eve’s still, soft lips.

The kiss sends shocks through them, a feeling unlike anything either of them has ever experienced. A feeling distinctly different from the thrill of a kill or kissing the lips of another.

This feeling is singular to them.

They kiss, completely consuming each other.

Villanelle takes Eve’s face gently with one hand, the other grasps her hip pulling her closer. Eve wraps an arm up around Villanelle, holding onto her harder than Villanelle holds her.

Their kissing becomes fervent as lust overcomes them both. Villanelle can feel Eve’s hip on hers, their bodies pressed against one another. A new feeling for Eve, she fervidly clutches at Villanelle’s coat.

Villanelle breathes out a laugh and Eve flushes, slightly embarrassed by her eagerness. Villanelle takes Eve’s lower lip gently between her teeth and bites it.

Eve almost wishes it was harder.

A car honks its horn and they both jerk their head towards the street, pulled out of their world and into the outside.

They laugh as they notice several onlookers try to quickly divert their eyes. Then laugh more, relieved to be in each other’s arms, content.

Villanelle looks at Eve with tender eyes, “Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

Villanelle grins at Eve who gazes at her with hopeful eyes, her face soft. She runs her hand through Eve’s hair, feeling the texture of her curls.

“You really do have amazing hair.”

Eve laughs lightly and rolls her eyes.

Villanelle caresses Eve’s cheek, “We should go somewhere.”

“Where?”

She shrugs, “We could go anywhere.”

Eve’s face shifts to concern, Villanelle seems to have forgotten that they just watched Carolyn shoot a member of The Twelve, and helped another go on the run.

“Could we?”

Villanelle furrows her brow in confusion. "I have been all over the world, I know tons of places.”

Eve tilts her head; Villanelle doesn’t seem to care about the possibility of being pursued by The Twelve.

A quick movement in the distance alerts Villanelle. She grabs Eve closer and pulls her to the side so she can see past her.

“Eve, is that your purse?”

Eve turns around to find a man rifling through her bag. She threw it down once she reached the bridge, tired of carrying its weight.

“Huh. Yeah. It is.”

Eve can feel Villanelle’s body tense against her.

“Do you want me to get it?”

Eve contemplates. Nothing of real importance is in there, only items that can easily be replaced.

She shakes her head then looks back at Villanelle, “No.”

Villanelle doesn’t understand this.

“Eve, you are being robbed right in front of us.”

“I don’t care.”

Villanelle is taken aback. Eve makes absolutely no sense sometimes, most of the time actually. She takes Eve with one arm while she steps around her so they stand side to side. Her hand remains on Eve’s hip, gripping her jacket.

“Hey!” she yells, her voice full of menace.

Startled, the man looks up and immediately senses the threat. He takes the few bills that Eve had along with her credit cards then tosses her wallet back in her purse, kicking it hard before he smiles and runs away.

Eve scoffs, “Oh. Well…”

She looks over at Villanelle expecting her to be amused by the way she made the thief run away with only her voice, but her expression is serious, her eyes clouded with rancor. Eve’s heart beats a few paces faster, surprised by how fast Villanelle can shift her mood from playful to predator.

She tries to reassure and calm Villanelle, “It’s okay. Really.”

Villanelle looks over, her eyes a shade darker. Eve can feel the fear and arousal pulsing through her veins.

She changes her tone, “I mean you have a lot of money, right?”

It pulls Villanelle out of her trance. She smiles, though it barely reaches her eyes.

“I do have a lot of money. Probably more than you’ve had in your entire life.”

Eve shakes her head, dismissing the jab. This is Villanelle’s way of flirting.

“Let’s get out of here. I know somewhere we can go. And be alone.”

Villanelle’s eyes lighten and exude seduction, but she can’t help the thought of smashing the thief’s face on the railing until her hands are bloody, then throwing him off the bridge so his lifeless body would plunge to the dark depths of the Thames.

[Carnival – Unloved]

** KILLING EVE **

Carolyn lets out an exasperated sigh as she looks at Paul’s still body, pondering her next move. If he has any information on The Twelve, she wants to find it for herself before the MI6 clean-up crew arrives. She takes Paul’s hand and places his fingers firmly on the pistol, having already wiped off her own prints. She called this in as a suicide, wise to make it look like one.

Carolyn sets the gun near his feet and gazes at him for a moment.

“Such is life, Paul.”

She riffles through his pockets searching for his phone. She already has his recent correspondences retrieved from Mo, poor Mo, but she’s after his most immediate calls and texts.

Who had he been contacting today? Last night?

She finds his phone in his pocket and turns on the screen. It’s unlocked.

Odd.

She scrolls through the call history but finds nothing notable. There’s a call to his ex-boyfriend at 2 AM. Pathetic.

She stops scrolling after several days of entries.

Only an impertinent idiot would leave their phone unlocked while working for multiple organizations, which Paul was, but he was not entirely unintelligent. There must be another phone somewhere, a burner he uses to communicate with The Twelve.

Dammit she should have requested clean-up in ten minutes not five, she’ll have to work fast.

Carolyn wipes off the phone and replaces it to his pocket, then promptly glides to the chests of drawers on either side of the living room, tearing them open and rummaging through the contents.

She would be smarter to bring gloves next time she considered pulling the trigger on someone.

She finds nothing of interest.

This only spurs her.

She briskly moves to his bedroom, acutely aware of the diminishing time she has left alone in his house. She rips open his wardrobe, scouring the contents.

Nothing.

Bedside tables.

Nothing.

No safes or locked boxes.

Time is dwindling.

She goes into his closet, frantically sliding the hanging shirts and coats aside. As she nears the end of the clothes rack, her intuition tells her he’s definitely got something stowed away somewhere.

But where would Paul hide something important?

As she slides the last garment bag on the rack she notices the unusual heaviness of it.

Surely no jacket can be so large as to weigh this much.

She unzips the bag to find a black velvet tuxedo jacket. She checks the sleeves first. The left has a rectangular object concealed in the fabric.

Carolyn unbuttons the jacket with haste, her time nearly out, then feels the inseam of the left sleeve and discovers a hidden pocket. She slips out a phone.

Clever. But not impossible to find.

Though the clean-up team may have missed it.

She tries to wake the screen for a check on the time but the phone is turned off. She can feel the pressure urging her to work faster. She begins to zip the bag up but she suddenly gets the sense that she may be missing something. Check again.

She feels the fabric of the back of the jacket. A larger uneven object, maybe multiple?

Her mind jumps around to all the possibilities as she frustratedly searches for the opening of the hidden pocket.

Quicker, she must move quicker, she only has seconds now.

She finds the slip of an opening and rips it open in a rush to pull out the contents inside. It’s a plastic bag containing a passport and currency for Argentina.

There’s no time to react to the uncovered items; the door buzzer rings.

Damn their promptness.

She hastily does one button of the jacket to conceal the ripped inner pocket then zips the bag.

The zipper catches.

She grunts and unzips the zipper, then zips it back up with agonizing slowness. She knows you simply cannot hurriedly zip a garment bag zipper.

The buzzer sounds again.

She turns off the light and closes the closet door, then slips the items into the inner pocket of her own coat. She glides back into the living room and lets the clean-up team in.

She’s fully composed, no sign of duress in her demeanor.

Jess steps into the living room where Carolyn stands as if she’s been there the entire time. She looks at Carolyn with intrigue then her eyes drift towards Paul’s lifeless body on the couch, brain matter scattered behind him.

Carolyn’s the first to speak.

“Shame really.”

Jess scans the room and analyzes it. The bullet in Paul’s forehead, the broken bust on the stand against the wall, the gun on the ground near his feet. She tries to formulate what really happened.

“Right then. Do let me know when you’ve finished.”

Jess nods.

“And Jess. It was a suicide.”

Carolyn straightens the collar of her jacket and glides away, leaving Jess with the mess.

\--------

Konstantin stares blankly out the train window into the dark night, only a few other passengers on the train with him. His heart palpitates, beating harder and faster in an unsteady rhythm. He slides his hand under his jacket and rubs his chest. He groans and shakes his head, reflecting on the unexpected turn of events of the day.

Would Carolyn have shot him?

He truly believed she might. The anger in her voice was convincing.

He’d never intended for Kenny to die. Kenny was kind, loyal, and smart, much better with computers than anyone in The Twelve, but he was digging around too much. He was aware of the activity in The Twelve’s accounts.

Konstantin wanted to protect Kenny, but more than anything he wanted to protect himself.

Konstantin arrived at the Bitter Pill on the evening of Kenny’s death, aware of the locations of security cameras, there were very few installed. He suggested they talk on the roof knowing they would be free from CCTV. Kenny had questions, but Konstantin wasn’t going to give the answers.

“You have to let this go, all of it,” Konstantin urges.

“No. I can’t.”

“Kenny, please. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into. The Twelve are very dangerous.”

“Yeah. And someone has to do something about it. They can’t just be allowed to run around killing people all the time.”

Konstantin gives him a stern look, “I am asking you to stop. Please.”

Kenny shakes his head, frustrated and dissatisfied, “I guess you don’t know what it’s like to really search for the truth then.”

Konstantin grimaces at the words.

Kenny can feel he’s onto something. He studies Konstantin.

“You do know something, don’t you?”

Irritation spreads across Konstantin’s face. He loses his composure.

“No.”

“You do.”

Konstantin's lips become a flat line in frustration.

“I do not.”

He takes a step towards Kenny causing him to take a step back. The backs of his legs bump up against the barricade of the roof.

“Who was transferring the money?”

Konstantin’s expression doesn’t change. He narrows his eyes at Kenny.

Kenny is resolute. “Who, Konstantin?”

And then he knows, realization flashes across his face.

Konstantin registers the look.

“No!”

Konstantin sighs and rubs his chin under his beard. Paul was better off dead, but not Kenny.

He pulls a flask out of on an inner coat pocket and takes a long drink, then another. He winces from the taste then exhales a long heavy sigh. He returns the flask then pulls out his phone and dials a number.

A woman’s voice answers.

“Hello?”

“I need your help.”

“Where are you?”

\--------

Eve trails Villanelle up the stairs to her London flat. It’s dark. The city lights shining through the windows softly illuminate the space.

“I didn’t think you still had this place,” Eve says, her breath heavy from the stairs.

“Yeah I have a place in London. You live here.”

Villanelle says it so matter-of-fact.

Eve smiles and watches as Villanelle slinks through the dark. She turns on the lights in the kitchen, revealing the layout of the flat.

It’s just as Eve remembered.

Open and modern, the kitchen against the back wall, dining table under the window, an unnecessary grand piano in the living room, and the bed, in the extravagant shape of a circle, in the center of the flat.

Her eyes drift to the bed, but she doesn’t move.

Villanelle walks back towards her.

“You can come in.”

She pulls off her boots.

“Shoes off?” Eve asks with jest.

Villanelle grins, “Sure.”

Eve kicks off her shoes, suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone with Villanelle. She strides into the space and sets her purse down on the dining table. Villanelle slinks towards her, her eyes trained on her figure.

“Did you lose anything important?”

Eve looks down at her purse, it’s just now occurring to her to check. She rummages around the inside, feeling the inner pockets. She opens her wallet assessing what’s left: a punch card for an Indian food restaurant, train ticket stubs, a few coins, and her identification card.

Villanelle arrives at her side, admiring her features. The memory of pulling the wet dress off of Eve’s bare body dances around her mind causing a burning desire to grow in her spreading throughout her body.

Eve can feel Villanelle’s gaze on her.

She turns, “No. Just some money and my phone.”

Villanelle laughs, “Good.”

She licks her lips then leans in close to Eve.

Eve swallows, more nervous than before. Her heart starts to pick up its rhythm as her body begins to vibrate.

Villanelle’s expression softens, “Don’t be nervous.” She runs her thumb down Eve’s jaw sending shocks through her body. “I’ve already seen you naked,” she smirks.

Eve lets out a laugh and relaxes some.

Villanelle leans in but pauses, her breath warm and wet on Eve’s lips. All rational thoughts leave Eve’s mind as she closes her eyes and leans in, meeting Villanelle’s eager lips.

Villanelle’s tongue slips inside Eve’s mouth, and suddenly Eve’s exploring Villanelle’s with her own. Desire rushes through her as she runs her hands over Villanelle’s body, feeling her soft jacket. Her nails claw at it, wishing they could somehow rip it off.

Villanelle caresses Eve’s face as she urges her on, lust ripping through her body. She can no longer contain it.

She wants Eve.

Now.

Her kisses move to Eve’s jaw then neck.

She whispers in Eve’s ear, her breath shaky, “Take this off.”

Eve nods, her eyes closed, and then Villanelle’s fingers are expertly pulling down the zipper of her jacket. She slides it off Eve’s shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

Eve shivers at the cool air in the flat.

Villanelle runs her hands over her body while planting kisses on her jaw.

Eve exhales an unsteady breath as Villanelle’s hands grip her body fiercely, pulling her hips into hers. She can feel Villanelle’s nails through her sweater. Suddenly she wants Villanelle’s jacket off, wants to run her hands over Villanelle’s curves. She pulls at the drawstrings near the collar.

Villanelle breathes out a throaty laugh kissing Eve’s neck then biting at it gently. Her bottom teeth and lip brush against Eve’s neck as she loosens her arms, letting Eve untie her jacket. Eve slides her hands underneath the fabric, working it off Villanelle’s shoulders.

Villanelle shrugs it off revealing a sheer black tank underneath clinging to her body. She presses herself against Eve.

Eve can feel the warmth radiating off Villanelle as her hands glide along the curve of Villanelle’s back. She runs the nails of one hand down Villanelle’s spine, pressing harder as she travels lower. Villanelle arches into her. Her body on fire now. She grabs Eve’s hips and kisses her hard.

“Come here.”

She leads Eve to the bed in the center of the flat. The little control Eve just had over Villanelle vanishes as she feels the backs of her knees hit the bed. Her heart races faster.

She’s thought about what it would be like to be with Villanelle, in detail at times, but now that she’s here, with Villanelle in front of her, all the moves she’s imagined are nowhere to be found. All she can think about is how Villanelle’s body feels up against hers.

She slides her hands under Villanelle’s tank, taking her by surprise. Her skin is warm and soft and she can feel Villanelle’s muscles twitch under her hands as she moves them across her body.

Maybe she still has some control.

She teases Villanelle, letting her hands continue to explore, running her nails across her skin but not pulling off her tank.

Villanelle nuzzles into Eve’s neck, submitting some, wanting desperately for Eve to just tear it off her body. Eve slides her hands underneath the sheer fabric, pulling it up, but Villanelle can’t wait. She rips it off in one fluid motion, then tosses it casually to the side.

Eve exhales heavily and laughs under her breath.

Villanelle laughs lightly and tilts her head playfully, “Like what you see?”

Eve doesn’t react to Villanelle’s banter. She strokes her fingers against the scar on Villanelle’s stomach. Villanelle gasps. It feels surreal for Eve’s fingers to be tracing the scar she left.

How did they end up here?

Eve leans away and pulls her sweater off, throwing in on the ground near Villanelle’s tank. Villanelle raises her eyebrows surprised by Eve’s sudden boldness. Eve unclasps her bra, her eyes never leaving Villanelle’s.

Villanelle’s eyes flicker with lust as Eve slips it off.

Then she pounces on Eve, one hand clutching her hip, the other on the small of Eve’s back as she presses into her.

Eve falls back on the bed, letting Villanelle lead. She grins at Eve hungrily as she unbuttons her jeans then pulls them off her hips, slipping them down her legs and off each foot. Eve watches her with wild eyes, her heart pounding against her ribs, every nerve in her body tingling.

Villanelle smirks then slowly slides her hands under her pants. She simpers at Eve as she pulls them down her thighs, then off her ankles.

Eve swallows hard and scoots higher up the bed.

There is no going back now.

Villanelle bites her lower lip as she climbs onto Eve and kisses her. Eve’s hand finds Villanelle’s ass, giving it a squeeze.

Anything goes now.

Their kissing grows in intensity, their muscles tensing under the other’s touch.

Villanelle’s mouth is near Eve’s ear.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” she whispers.

Eve pulls Villanelle into her. 

“I think I do,” she breathes out.

And with that Villanelle’s hand slips between Eve’s legs. Eve gasps and clutches her tighter. Villanelle can feel Eve’s nails digging into her back.

She kisses Eve's neck. “Are you okay?”

Eve exhales an affirmatory response.

Villanelle kisses her neck again, then lips as she lets Eve get used to the feeling of her hand between her legs. She explores with her fingers as Eve squirms under her. She’s about to take it one step further when Eve abruptly puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait!”

Villanelle immediately stops and looks at Eve with concern. No one has ever told her to wait before.

Eve can feel the heat in her cheeks as she looks into Villanelle’s swimming hazel eyes.

“It’s just that, I mean. I’ve never done this before.”

Relief and amusement wash over Villanelle’s face. She strokes Eve’s jaw.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. For you and for myself.”

Eve blinks.

“Well, I won’t, I-“

“Eve.” She gazes lovingly into Eve’s eyes, her thumb running back and forth on her jaw. “Stop overthinking it.”

Eve nods. Villanelle’s thumb continues to run across her jaw.

“Do you want to do this?”

Eve nods again, “Yes.”

Villanelle grins, the color of her eyes around her pupils darken a shade.

“Me too. So let me do it, okay?”

Eve chuckles and turns her face away from Villanelle’s, needing a moment to think. She looks back at Villanelle’s expectant eyes.

“Okay.”

Villanelle kisses her softly on the lips, her hand caressing Eve’s jaw. She runs her thumb over Eve’s lower lip then her hand drifts back down between Eve’s legs.

Eve sighs.

\-------- [Her – Unloved]

Carolyn drives through the early morning, rain pattering on the windshield. She turns the wipers up a notch. She checks the rearview mirror then her eyes jump back to the road.

They flicker to the driver’s side mirror noticing a black Jaguar pulling out from the curb.

It follows behind her.

The burner phone sits on the seat next to her. She eyes it suspiciously, then checks the rearview mirror again, her lips pressed in a flat line.

The black car turns right down another street.

She slams the brakes as her eyes notice the red light ahead. The phone flies off the seat to the ground. She looks over at it, blinks once, then looks back to the road. The rain patters on the windshield as the wipers squeak back and forth.

Carolyn sighs and rubs her forehead. She checks the time.

7:43 AM.

She readjusts in her seat, placing both hands firmly back on the wheel.

The light changes green.

Carolyn strides up to the entrance of the Bitter Pill sporting a long black coat. She forces her eyes to stay locked on the front door, not allowing them to drift to the spot on the asphalt where Kenny’s body was found.

She pulls the door open with force.

She treads through the doors into the office expecting it to be busy but finding only Audrey sitting at her desk.

“Where is everyone?”

Audrey looks up from her computer. “It’s early?”

Carolyn checks her watch.

8:02 AM

“According to my watch, I’m late.”

Audrey shrugs. "Bear usually-“

A loud cough comes from Jamie’s dim office. Audrey and Carolyn look over as Jamie crawls out from under his desk, smoke from his vape swirling around his office. He stands up then staggers, not expecting Carolyn to be there, an appalled look on her face.

He clears his throat and smooths down the front of his shirt then steps out of his office.

“Carolyn. I wasn’t expecting you to drop by this morning.”

“Clearly.”

Carolyn struts over to him, the tails of her coat whipping against her legs. She can smell the alcohol seeping from him as she gets closer. She stops a few paces away.

“Do you always show up like this? To work?”

“Technically I never left.”

“Huh. Well. I’ve something I need your help with.” She regards him with her eyes, not being discreet. “Rather unfortunately.”

Bear ambles into the office, headphones on. He stops in his tracks upon seeing Carolyn. He looks over to Audrey, searching her for an explanation.

“What?” Is all he can manage to say.

Carolyn looks over her shoulder.

“Great. Everyone’s here.”

\-------- [Danger – Unloved]

**NOT LONDON**

Konstantin treads into the lobby of a hotel, the ceilings high, the walls all made of tall windows, and the floors white marble. There’s a grand staircase leading up to a second-floor with a bar and balcony that overlook the lobby. To the left of the staircase is the reception counter made of dark wood with chrome accents. To the right is a fireplace with black leather lounge chairs situated around it.

A small café is set up across the lobby with an espresso bar and fresh pastries on display. It’s bustling with women and men dressed in tailored suits of black, gray, and navy blue, with the occasional boldness of burgundy or khaki.

Chatter and clicking heels echoes around the lobby.

Konstantin stands out against the corporate coolness of the place, looking ragged and disheveled.

The receptionist, hair in a sleek pony tail and nails painted deep blue, smiles as he approaches.

“Good morning sir. Checking in?”

“Where are the elevators?”

She frowns and points, “Around the corner, on the right.”

Konstantin nods in response and walks around the corner. He repeatedly presses the elevator button on the wall, checking his watch impatiently. A man in a gray Burberry suit appears behind him. He stares down at his phone focused on the screen.

Konstantin assesses the man in his periphery, careful not to avert his eyes. If it was someone sent to follow him, it’s best to act unaware. The greatest chance of escape is by surprise.

The elevator dings as the doors open. Two women in suits, one in Dolce & Gabbana the other in Yves Saint Laurent, step out and smile politely at Konstantin. He nods at them then steps into the elevator, hoping the man in the suit doesn’t follow, but he does.

Konstantin presses the (12) button.

“Which floor?”

“Uh. Seven.”

The man continues to stare down at his phone, then begins clicking on it quickly.

Konstantin presses the (7) button then blinks his eyes a few times, exhausted and uncomfortable.

The elevator dings as the doors open to the seventh floor. The man continues to click on his phone. Konstantin watches him.

“Seventh floor,” he says, annoyed.

The man looks up then at Konstantin. Konstantin raises his eyebrows at him expectantly. He furrows his brow and steps out of the elevator.

The elevator reaches the twelfth floor.

Konstantin steps out and reads the sign on the wall indicating which directions for which rooms. He walks to the left down a long hallway with a window at the end looking out onto the rooftops of neighboring buildings.

It’s the last room on the left.

He knocks on the door.

Geraldine opens it.

“Come in.”

Konstantin steps inside hurriedly and Geraldine shuts the door behind him.

The room is large and open. It has the same modern theme as the lobby. The floors are light wood, the furniture and décor are white and gray with chrome accents, and large windows let in natural light.

“Twelfth floor?” he asks, eyebrows raised quizzically.

“It was the last suite they had.”

Konstantin laughs loudly then shakes his head. Geraldine gives a weak smile.

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

Konstantin opens the mini fridge and peruses the options. There are small bottles of Jameson, Martell, Jack Daniel’s, and Grey Goose. He pulls out the Jack Daniel’s and Grey Goose.

He opens the cap of the whiskey with his teeth and gulps it down.

“I need you to retrieve some items for me.”

“Okay.”

Konstantin swigs down the vodka then sets the bottle down next to the whiskey. Geraldine looks at them with concern.

“Should you really be drinking right now?”

“No.”

His hand drifts to his chest, causing Geraldine to worry.

“What is it that you need me to get?”

Konstantin pulls the bag containing the Russian dolls out of his jacket pocket. He unveils the dolls to Geraldine who laughs.

“What? Wh- Why do you have those?”

“There’s a barcode on the bottom of each doll.”

“Okay?”

“You have to put them in order, biggest doll to smallest doll. That is how you get the complete code, which you will need.”

“Okay. But, why are you telling me all this?”

“The code opens a safety deposit box. Inside it there are very important items, that I need. Soon.”

Konstantin reaches inside his pocket for a slip of paper.

“This has the address. When you get there, ask for Smithe, with an E.”

“So, you want me to go get them then?”

“Yes. Please.”

Geraldine creases her brow, slighted. Konstantin shrugs innocently.

“I would go, but my heart, cannot handle the stress,” he grimaces.

Geraldine mulls it over.

She sighs, “Fine. I’ll go.”

Konstantin starts to smile.

“But only if you tell me what happened last night.”

He groans then rubs his chin.

He looks her in the eye, “Paul is dead.”

Geraldine gasps, “What?”

“Yeah. I know. I was surprised by it too.”

He surveys the room, hoping she won’t ask questions.

“Did you kill him?”

Konstantin guffaws. Geraldine stares at him perplexed.

He shakes his head, his face a mix of anguish and anger.

“No.”

She doesn’t press him for details.

He saunters over to the window and looks out into the grey early morning.

“He was not good at his job.” He turns around, his eyes narrow as he decides what to tell Geraldine. “Carolyn knew about his involvement with The Twelve. It was really only a matter of time.” He laughs.

Geraldine rubs the back of her neck.

“Will there be a memorial service?”

Konstantin laughs hard, "That is really what you are thinking about?”

She shoots him a stern look, surprising him by her sudden shift in emotion.

“I’m thinking about how many members of MI6 will be in a room together.”

\--------

Carolyn stands in front of Jamie, Bear, and Audrey in the Bitter Pill office, somewhat disappointed by the fact that she's had to ask this disjointed trio for help.

Bear munches on a bowl of cereal, oblivious to the seriousness of the room.

Jamie shoots him a look of disappointment, “Aye, we’re in a meeting.”

“But I’m hungry.”

Bear takes another heaping bite as Audrey watches him, embarrassed by his behavior in front of Carolyn. He takes another bite then realizes all eyes are on him and chews slowly. He sets the bowl on the desk behind him.

He swallows. “Sorry.”

Jamie sighs and rubs his temples.

“What’ve you got for us to help you with?”

Carolyn debates whether to leave right then and there, but decides against her better judgement to stay.

“As you know, after working with Eve, there’s an organization called The Twelve that has infiltrated governments and org-”

“Organizations all over the world,” Jamie finishes for her. “Yeah we know.”

“Right.”

“They kill people,” Bear blurts nervously.

“Yes.” She pauses, once more doubting her decision to come to them for help. “They have several assassins working for them and have to power to order hits on anyone they wish to be dead.”

“We’ve met one of them,” Bear blurts again. Carolyn’s look of detestation makes him shrink in his seat.

“Villanelle,” Jamie explains. “She was here yesterday. Looking for Eve.”

“Right after you left actually,” Audrey adds hesitantly.

“Of course she was.”

Carolyn pieces together the timeline in her head.

An uncomfortable silence settles around the room.

“So what do you need from us then?” Audrey asks.

Carolyn looks at her, unsure what her role will be in this process. She pulls out the burner phone. Audrey, Bear, and Jamie stare at it, eyes wide, as if it were a loaded gun.

“This has come into my possession recently. It belonged to a member of The Twelve and I’m almost certain it contains highly sensitive information that could be used against them.”

Jamie's eyes slide up to meet Carolyn's, “And?”

“I need your help accessing the data on it.”

“Is it encrypted?” Audrey asks.

“Well I can’t seem to get it to turn on,” Carolyn admits reluctantly.

“Have you tried charging it?” Bear asks innocently.

Audrey and Jamie shoot him scornful looks. He shrinks further.

Audrey speaks apprehensively, “Kenny showed me a program he coded that’s able to hack into phones and computers, even servers if you have enough time. We could try that?”

Carolyn softens slightly at the sound of Kenny’s name though her face is still determined.

“Right.” She flips the phone over in her hand deciding whether or not to get the Bitter Pill team involved, whether it’s worth putting more lives in danger. “How long will that take?”

“Don’t know,” Audrey says.

“We won’t know 'til we crack the thing, see how much data there is to pull out,” Jamie follows up.

“Will we be in danger? Looking into it?” Bear asks anxiously.

“If you’ve been working with Eve, then you already are.”

\--------

The late morning sun shines through the windows into Villanelle’s flat. Eve and Villanelle lie in bed, Eve on her back, her limbs all sprawled out, Villanelle on her side, one arm under the pillow, the other reaching for Eve.

The comforter is kicked to the end of the bed, most of it slipping on to the floor. Part of the sheet is twisted around one of Villanelle’s bare legs, the other part covers Eve’s side.

Eve stretches and yawns, groaning lightly as she exhales. Villanelle stirs next to her and grins without opening her eyes. Eve gazes at her, noting how young she looks, innocent. She scoots closer and brushes Villanelle’s hair behind her ear, then stokes her thumb down her jaw. Villanelle gives her a crooked smile then jerks her head towards Eve’s hand pretending to bite it. Eve quickly removes her hand, confounded.

Villanelle opens her eye and smiles wide at Eve.

“Good morning.”

She snuggles up against Eve like nothing strange just happened.

Eve stares up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night on display in her mind. She runs her fingers through Villanelle’s messy hair absentmindedly, her wedding ring still on.

Her face is soft at first, thinking about Villanelle, then is turns more solemn as she considers their current situation.

“How long can we stay here?”

Villanelle sighs, “A few days maybe.”

“And then what?”

Villanelle clenches her jaw, “And then we go to the next place.”

Eve’s fingers stop mid brush.

“Where?”

Villanelle nuzzles into Eve, wanting her to continue brushing. She does.

“Wherever we want.”

Eve stops again.

“You really think we can just go anywhere?”

Villanelle sits up on her elbow to look at Eve. She tries to be convincing.

“We are safe here.”

But she can tell Eve doesn’t believe her.

She tries a different tactic, sliding her hand on Eve’s chest then up around her neck. She can feel Eve’s pulse beat faster under her fingers.

Eve feels herself submit.

“I will keep us safe," Villanelle assures her. "You don’t have to worry.”

Eve can see the distance in Villanelle’s eyes.

“I always worry.”

Eve tries to regain some power.

“I worry about you, worry you’ll get hurt, or caught, and I won’t be able to help you, won’t know if you’re alive, or dead. I worry about you getting killed by The Twelve, or MI6, or some other organization because you’ve done something stupid and reckless. And I worry about what you’re feeling, even though it is so hard to tell.”

Villanelle’s face softens some but her eyes remain detached.

“We are together now, Eve. We don’t have to chase after each other anymore.”

She strokes Eve’s jaw with her thumb.

Eve gazes at her, “I liked that part.”

Villanelle laughs, “Me too.” She bites her lip, ready to pounce on her prey, “But I like this too.”

Eve watches the lust swirl into her eyes, she gives in.

“We can run from The Twelve together.”

“We will chase them.”

Villanelle grins at Eve, who wants to believe her.

“I’m going to go down on you now, okay?”

Villanelle dives between Eve’s legs.

\--------

**SCOTLAND**

A woman wearing a starched white coat strides down the corridor of the intensive care unit, her heels clicking with each step. Her hair is tied back in a neat low bun and she’s carrying a patient chart. A nurse smiles at her as she glides past, but the woman doesn’t acknowledge her. She keeps her gaze fixed ahead.

She enters a critical care patient room and closes the door behind her, locking it, then tosses the chart on a chair next to the bed.

“You look terrible,” says Hélène, the woman in the white coat. She looks down at Dasha with disdain.

Dasha’s head is wrapped with a white bandage, the bruises around her eye and on her jaw a deep blue and purple, her condition worsening.

She groans with her eyes closed, “Where am I?”

“Russia.”

She opens her eyes slowly, meeting Hélène’s menacing gaze. Hélène smiles fiendishly at her.

“We are not in Russia,” Dasha coughs out the words.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Why should I believe you, huh? You give Villanelle a job and she takes me with her, then I end up here.”

“Hm. You are the best Dasha. Surely I figured you could manage Villanelle.”

“She needs discipline, punishment. Polastri has undone everything I did. All my hard work. I created Villanelle, I instilled power in her, train her to be great assassin. Perfect kills.” She winces, “But she doesn’t listen. Polastri is always in her head.”

“I thought that if I put the best with the best, I’d have an unstoppable force. Instead I end up with a disaster.”

“She wanted to be a keeper, and you make her keeper but nothing changes. You expect her not to act out?” She coughs. “She is like a child.”

“I expected you to handle it, to handle her.”

Hélène steps closer to the bed, her expression cold, her eyes unforgiving. She looks down at Dasha.

“Your work for us is done, Dasha. But you are in Russia, so you won, no? You got what you wanted.”

She takes a plastic vial from her pocket, the clear liquid inside giving no indication of what it might be.

But Dasha knows what’s coming next.

Hélène undoes the IV line, leaving the needle stuck in Dasha’s hand with the port accessible. She begins to screw the vial into place.

“Can you hear the people chanting? Dasha, Dasha.”

Dasha’s eyes widen with fear as Hélène gives the vial a few more turns.

“Dasha, Dasha.”

Dasha’s body convulses as she gasps for air, the toxin traveling through her veins.

“Dasha, Dasha.”

Hélène backs away from the bed. Dasha’s eyes fill with terror. The heart rate monitor beeps rapidly and out of control, then drops suddenly. The even tone of death.

“And you never will.”

Hélène turns off the monitor to prevent the nurses from rushing into the room, thinking their patient is coding. She unscrews the vial and replaces the IV line.

[Laisse Tomber Les Filles – France Gall]

She pulls out her phone and dials a number. She speaks in French.

“C'est fait.” It’s done.

She grabs Dasha’s patient chart and exits the room, closing the door gently behind her. She places the chart in the holder on the door. The smiling nurse from before approaches, waiting for a report.

Hélène smiles at her but it’s insincere.

“She’s resting. Don’t wake her,” she orders, her French accent concealed behind Scottish inflection.

The nurse nods warily.

Hélène strides down the hall, her heels reverberating along the corridor. A small grin flashes on her face. She pulls her hair out of the bun, shaking it out as she exits the sliding glass doors of the hospital.

A black Aston Martin pulls up as she steps out. She slides off the white coat and rounds the car to the passenger door.

A woman with dark brown hair and sharp features sits behind the wheel. Her dark eyes cut through like razors. She drums her long, painted black nails on the steering wheel.

Hélène slides into the car, tossing the coat in the back seat. They lock eyes for a moment.

The woman smiles, “Comment vous sentiez-vous?” How did it feel?

“Conduire.” Drive.

\--------

Konstantin opens the door to let Geraldine back into the hotel room.

He gets right to business.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes, of course.”

Geraldine walks into the room allowing herself in. She reaches inside her purse and pulls out an envelope.

“That is all of it?”

Geraldine nods, “The important stuff. Passports, account numbers.”

He nods at the envelope and Geraldine hands it to him.

“I don’t know why you thought you needed toothpaste, deodorant, and Paracetamol.”

“The original plan was very different.”

Konstantin peers inside the envelope then pulls out two passports. He flips one open to a headshot of Irina with a different name next to it. The left side of his mouth pulls out in a crooked smile. He opens the other letting out a laugh at his own headshot then turns the pages until he finds a slip of paper with a series of digits on it.

There are two more passports with different colored covers in the envelope but he doesn’t open either.

He nods satisfied with the contents and puts everything back, then pockets the envelope. Geraldine eyes him apprehensively.

“When are you leaving?”

He scratches his head, “Soon.”

“Do you have tickets yet?”

“No.”

“Do you need help with getting them?”

He’s almost offended by the question.

“No." He opens the mini fridge again, then closes it. “I just need to decide when I am going to get Irina.”

\--------

**MOSCOW**

The hallways of the psychiatric detention center are quiet. The overhead fluorescent lights hum softly and dim the halls in a sickly yellow haze. A male orderly slithers out of a patient’s room adjusting the waistband of his pants. He looks over his shoulder to check that no one is around, then strolls down the hall with a devilish smile on his face.

Irina pokes her head around the corner at the end of the hall, enough for the orderly to notice.

“Privet!” Hey!

He strides down the hall towards her as she slips around the corner grinning, pleased that he’s coming after her. She walks backwards down the other hallway, waiting for him to turn the corner. He comes around stomping angrily.

They speak in Russian.

“You’re not allowed to be out of your room right now,” he hisses.

“You’re not allowed to be in our rooms, but that doesn’t stop you.”

Irina smirks then turns and runs down the hall. He follows after her, seething. This is not the first time she’s deliberately broken the rules.

Irina slips into a storage closet at the end of the hall. The man checks his shoulder again before following her into the closet. She beams at him, happy that she’s successfully lured her prey. The man slowly closes the door behind him, the devilish smile creeping back on his face.

“Are you upset that I didn’t come into your room?”

He moves closer to her as he eyes her up and down. Irina slowly slides a shank out of her sleeve and into her hand. He’s close enough to grab her but she lunges towards him in a frenzy, shank in hand, stabbing him rapidly and repeatedly in the chest.

He’s completely caught by surprise.

He gasps and clutches his chest as his legs start to give way but Irina doesn’t let up. She drives the shank into him again and again.

His gasping becomes raspy as he tries to grab a shelf but he can’t hold on, the life draining from his body. He slumps down to the ground, blood soaking through his shirt.

[Sigh – Unloved]

Irina watches the life fall from his eyes as his expression turns from terror to emptiness. She breathes unsteadily, her sweatsuit covered in his blood. A huge smile spreads across her face as she feels the thrilling rush of the kill. She laughs to herself, louder than she should for this time of night, then tosses the shank to the side without care.

She pulls off her sweatshirt and wipes the blood from her face and hands, watching as it smears off her skin. She changes into the new sweatsuit she hid in the closet after deciding that she wanted to kill him.

She carefully steps around the pool of blood.

“Helvítis öfuguggi.” Fucking pervert, she spits in Icelandic.

Then she slips out of the closet and slinks back to her room without a sound.

\--------

The lights from windows in the nearby buildings are golden flecks in the darkness outside Villanelle's flat. Eve paces in the kitchen, a glass of red wine in hand, her hair is in a low messy bun. She’s in work mode, trying to come up with a plan.

Villanelle, hair in a low bun, walks up the stairs holding a takeaway bag.

She watches Eve, “You are doing it again.”

Eve stops, “What?”

“Overthinking,” Villanelle raises her brows.

Eve takes a drink, then starts pacing again. Villanelle sets the bag on the dining table.

“Come eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are.”

Eve stops again allowing herself to notice the hunger. She droops her shoulders in compliance, frustrated.

“You’re right.”

Villanelle places takeaway boxes around the table.

“What’d you get?” Eve asks, setting down her wine glass and sitting at the table.

She opens a box.

It’s spaghetti.

Eve scoffs, throwing a hand up, “Oh, this is what you ordered?”

“What? I thought you liked it.”

“It doesn’t, I don’t know, remind you of Rome?”

“Why because spaghetti is from Italy?” Villanelle mocks.

“You know why.”

Villanelle creases her brow, “Eve, it was a joke.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Are you still upset about that?” she asks, then slurps up some spaghetti.

Eve can feel her scar begin to ache. She doesn’t respond.

“You stabbed me first you know.”

“You almost killed me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You wanted to.”

Villanelle leans back in her seat, “Eve, I was very depressed. You had just left me.”

Eve can feel the darkness swell inside her.

"I killed a man.”

Villanelle’s eyes light up a little, “I know. I watched you do it.”

“You could have killed him, you could have shot him, but instead you made me,” she searches for the words, “chop him with an ax.”

Villanelle ignores this.

“Why did you stab me, Eve? Because you were angry?”

“Yes,” Eve says, her voice direct.

“Really? Or was it something else?” Villanelle raises her brows at Eve and then slurps up more pasta.

Eve’s face is unyielding. She doesn’t give Villanelle the satisfaction.

[Tell Mama – Unloved]

“What happened to you?” she asks flatly.

Villanelle furrows her brow, her mood shifting.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eve leans in, “Tell me, Oksana.”

Villanelle flinches at the sound of her name. She raises her head to meet Eve’s intense gaze.

“Okay. Fine.”

Eve searches her for clues.

“I killed someone.”

Eve’s face drops a little.

“Who?”

Villanelle sucks in her breath, wincing funnily.

“Another assassin for The Twelve,” she exhales.

Eve leans away, her face solemn.

“When?”

Villanelle cringes, “Last night.”

“Last night? And you weren’t going to tell me?”

Villanelle shrugs, defensive. “What? I just did.”

Eve stands up abruptly. She turns away from Villanelle, one hand on her hip, the other running anxiously through her hair as she stares out the window into the night.

Villanelle’s eyes find the scar on Eve’s back running along the edge of her shoulder blade. She studies the mark.

That shot really should have killed Eve.

Eve turns back around, her eyes fierce, “How can you tell me we’re safe when you just killed one of The Twelve’s assassins?”

Villanelle’s eyes darken.

“Don’t yell at me, Eve.”

Eve stalks over to Villanelle slowly. Villanelle shakes one leg under the table, trying to maintain control. Eve stands before her, looking down at her with a coldness.

“Or what, Villanelle?”

Villanelle’s hand grips the fork tighter. She fights the thoughts of stabbing it into Eve’s neck. Eve notices her body tensing.

“You’ll kill me?”

Villanelle looks at Eve almost with contempt in her dark eyes. She considers her choices. Her neck twitches.

A smile without affection spreads across Eve’s face, “We both know you won’t do that.”

The muscles in Villanelle’s neck tense, her jaw clenches tight. In a flash she grabs the wine bottle on the table and throws it against the wall. It smashes into pieces, spraying red wine on them both.

Eve turns her head away sharply, surprised by the force of the throw.

The wine drips down the wall and puddles on the floor.

Villanelle bites down on her lip as she takes a deep breath trying to compose herself. She hates that Eve just made her to that.

Eve feels herself gaining power. Fear fades away.

“We’re together now, Villanelle.”

Villanelle’s eyes are devoid. She refuses to look at Eve.

Eve’s voice cuts into her, “We have to tell each other the truth.”

Villanelle flicks her eyes at Eve. It’s unnerving how quickly she shifts to predator, but Eve doesn’t falter. She sits down slowly, her eyes watchful over Villanelle.

They stare at each other, neither of them making a move.

Villanelle forces her muscles to relax.

“Who’s Hélène?” Eve knows she’s pushing her luck now.

Villanelle stares at her, her face giving no hints as to how she’s feeling. She doesn’t respond for so long that Eve is about to ask again.

Villanelle shifts back to playful.

“A French woman with a really big nose.”

The tension dissipates some. Villanelle picks up her fork but doesn’t eat.

“She works for The Twelve?”

“She is The Twelve.”

Eve leans back in her seat, Villanelle regaining control. She takes a bite. Eve just watches her, the fear coming back.

“Does she know you killed one of her assassins?”

“Probably by now, yes.”

“Do you think she’ll come after you?”

“No. She likes me," she says, almost as if she’s proud.

Eve shrugs in defeat, “So what do you suggest we do then?”

Villanelle takes another bite.

“Eat. Have more sex. See what happens tomorrow.”

She shoots Eve a wicked smile. Eve stares down at the pasta.

\--------

Carolyn strides through her front door then stops at the sound coming from the kitchen. She listens to even rhythmic slicing then slowly steps towards the kitchen, thoughts darting about of who it could be and what’s being sliced.

She turns the corner into the kitchen to find Geraldine peeling potatoes with a paring knife, rather carelessly. Her shoulders drop with disappointment.

“Geraldine, what are you still doing here?”

Geraldine looks up, surprised more by the question than her mother coming home.

“I’m making us dinner.”

“I told you to leave yesterday. Was I not clear?”

Carolyn glides to the bottle of Tanqueray on the counter. She pours herself a hearty amount, then tosses it back with finesse.

Geraldine regards her, but doesn’t stop peeling the potatoes. Carolyn pours herself another drink, then stares at Geraldine, expecting her to set down the potato and leave.

Geraldine puts down the potato but not the knife, which Carolyn notices.

“I’m not leaving, mum.”

“Geraldine this is not a debate. It’s simply a one-sided statement, which is, please leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“I’ve had a rather long day, and I really don’t want to have to raise my voice.”

Geraldine doesn’t move.

“You’re not safe mum. Whatever is going on, I can tell it’s dangerous. People are dying.”

“People are not dying because it’s dangerous. They’re dying because they made a choice but couldn’t stand fully behind it.”

“Mum-“

“You’ve no idea what dangerous can really be, Geraldine. You spend all your time here, making stews and doing yoga, and then you compromise my intelligence by allowing yourself to be manipulated by the other side.”

Geraldine slams the knife onto the counter.

“Did you really just say that?”

“Yes. Because it had to be said.” Carolyn takes a drink. “Familiarity breeds contempt, Geraldine. You’re not happy here, I’m not happy with you here. So I suggest, no demand rather, that you be gone by the morning.”

“Mum-“

“For God’s sake I will not say it again.”

Geraldine looks as if she’s about to cry but she doesn’t. She fights her emotions, not wanting to give Carolyn another reason to throw her out of the house.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Geraldine storms out of the kitchen then pauses and turns, You’ve already lost one child. And now you’re losing the other.”

Carolyn doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t say a word at all.

Geraldine treads up the stairs.

Carolyn inhales a deep breath, then tosses back the rest of her drink, her eyes landing on the blade of the paring knife.

\--------

Konstantin sits on a couch in his hotel room, looking out the window into the dark black night. He pours a shot from a Grey Goose bottle and throws it back, grimacing. He pours another.

His phone rings on the coffee table, vibrating across the surface. He doesn’t recognize the number but picks up anyways.

“Hello?”

It’s an automated response in Russian.

“Do you accept this call from the juvenile delinquent center in Moscow?”

He furrows his brow and frowns.

“Da.” Yes.

“Papa.”

[Xpectations - Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DARK IRINA RISING!
> 
> Sorry if there are any typos or the formatting is weird (I'm still learning how to post)
> 
> Thank you Google translate for helping me pretend to know different languages
> 
> Chapter 2 is in the works - feedback is welcome!
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @daydreaming_KE


	2. We Need A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolyn uncovers a significant piece of information thanks to the Bitter Pill; Villanelle and Eve continue to try to evade The Twelve; Hélène regains control over Konstantin forcing a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! It's a little shorter too
> 
> I know there has been some strife and struggle in the Killing Eve fandom lately, so I wanted to say that I started writing this fic because I love the show and the characters. So that's that.
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Mosaic – Unloved  
> This Is the Time (Radio Edit) – Unloved  
> If – Unloved  
> Crash Boom Bang – Unloved  
> Sombre – Unloved  
> Unloved Heart – Unloved  
> It’s Not You, It’s Me – Unloved  
> Xpectations – Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: We Need A Plan](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ZsH4ZmdjajWhJL9ioVJoH?si=5C0IK4K9TTWHorYy7hWwAg)

**MOSCOW (DETENTION CENTER)**  
[Mosaic – Unloved]  
Irina sits at a table in a small waiting room, tapping her finger. There are security cameras in every corner and an orderly guards the door, his face blank.

Konstantin treads slowly down the hall, his gait unsteady. His eyes look like they haven’t seen sleep for months, his face is the color of ash, and his hair is frayed and unkempt.

Irina’s doctor, Dr. Baryshnikov, waits at the end of the hall and beckons for Konstantin. He can’t hear what the doctor is saying as he approaches, feeling as if a fog is closing in around him little by little. The doctor's face appears concerned as his mouth moves, but Konstantin can’t hear his words.

“Mr. Vasiliev.”

Konstantin remains in the fog.

“Mr. Vasiliev.”

Dr. Baryshnikov puts a hand on Konstantin’s shoulder, “Mr. Vasiliev.”

Konstantin is pulled back to the present. He blinks then meets Dr. Baryshnikov’s worried eyes.

“Do you need a moment?”

Konstantin shrugs away the doctor’s hand.

“No. I am fine. Can I see her now?”

“You can be in there with her for ten minutes. And then we need to have a very serious discussion about your daughter’s condition.”

The fog creeps back in and Konstantin’s eyes become distant.

“Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

“Yes,” Konstantin answers absently. He looks clearly at Dr. Baryshnikov, “I need to talk to my daughter now.”

“Ten minutes.”

Konstantin reaches for the door.

“And Mr. Vasiliev, everything will be recorded.”

Konstantin nods then pulls open the door.

Irina doesn’t turn her head at the sound of the door. Her eyes track Konstantin as he walks around the table.

“What took you so long?”

Konstantin grimaces as he sits in front of her.

“Why Irina? Why did you have to do it again?”

Irina crosses her arms and sits back in her chair, annoyed by such an inane question.

“Because. He was not a good person.” 

Konstantin scrunches his brow. That’s not a good enough answer.

“He would sneak into the other patients’ rooms at night. Do things to them.”

Konstantin’s face washes out with dread.

He can hardly ask the words, “Did he, ever, do anything to you?”

“No,” she says simply. “I killed him before he made it down to my room.”

Konstantin slumps in his seat. He stares at the table, but can’t come up with words.

Irina leans forward, “He deserved it.” Then she leans away again, smiling a little. “I would do it again,” she shrugs.

Konstantin slams a fist on the table, “You can’t say things like that in here. They will think you are being serious.”

“He was a pervert. You don’t think he deserved to die?”

“You don’t get to decide who deserves to live or die.”

“Why not? Don’t you?”

“No. I don’t even get to decide that.”

Konstantin suddenly remembers the fact that they are being recorded.

Irina glares at him.

“I want to be more like Villanelle.”

All the color drains from Konstantin’s face.

“No. You-”

“She gets to decide who lives and dies. That is her job and she goes all over the world for it. I mean she is totally crazy, but she does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. And she has a lot of money.”

“Irina.”

“Did you know that I can speak more languages than her? She doesn’t even know Mandarin, and that is like, elementary level. I bet she can’t even speak Portuguese.”

“Irina! You will not be like Villanelle.”

“Why not?” She leans onto the table, “You were going to leave with her, weren’t you? Without me.”

Konstantin’s upper lip twitches, “No.”

“You are such a liar. You were going to leave me in here and never come back.”

His lips form a smile crooked to one side.

“I know you like her more than me.”

“Irina, you are my daughter. Of course, I love you more.”

“Then why couldn’t we just have gone on the night we were supposed to?”

“Because you decided it would be a good idea to run over your mother’s new boyfriend,” Konstantin growls, then his face drops and he clutches his chest.

“You were the one who took me here in the first place! This is all your fault!”

Konstantin creases his brow as he tries to steady his breathing.

“You have to get me out of here.”

“They won’t release you. They think you have a serious condition. And you killing one of their staff only makes them want to keep you in here longer,” he spits out the words.

“I know you can find a way to get me out.”

“Irina-”

“She can do it.”

**KILLING EVE**

**MILAN**  
[This Is the Time (Radio Edit) – Unloved]  
Villanelle struts around dragging a reluctant Eve along with her. They get new clothes, new shoes, new accessories, and new phones. Villanelle loves every second of the shopping and takes Eve to designer boutiques, Valentino, Versace, Moschino, Fendi, Prada, making her try on the most expensive items and buying all of them for her.

Eve is exhausted after the first store.

She protests when Villanelle wants to go yet another place but concedes each time because as much as she doesn’t want to admit it the clothes are very flattering and seeing Villanelle’s eyes lighten as she beams at her when she tries on something new is worth every second.

Not to mention the sultry items Villanelle chooses for herself.

Eve tries on navy blue trousers that cling to her perfectly then flow at the leg and an emerald-green silk blouse. She looks at herself in the fitting room mirror, unsure of the shirt. She tucks it in, then pulls it out some, then tucks it back in.

Obviously, fashion has never been Eve’s claim to fame, but it seems that how you wear something is just as important as what you are wearing.

She sighs.

She holds her hair up thinking that an updo might make the shirt look different. Having her hair off her shoulders does accentuate the plunging neckline of the blouse, exposing her collar bones some. She notices the tan line left behind by her wedding ring in the mirror, then she lets her hair fall back down and steps out of the dressing room.

“I don’t know about this one.”

Villanelle holds a few different blouses as she flips through the rack full of clothes she chose for Eve.

She looks up and immediately her face flushes. She tries to act uninterested.

"Why not?” she asks with an indifferent shrug.

Eve walks over to the mirror next to Villanelle and messes with the waist of the pants, pulling the shirt out a bit again. She’s too focused on it to notice Villanelle’s eyes flickering up and down on her figure as she stalks closer slowly.

Eve draws her hair up again.

Villanelle’s breath hitches.

Eve catches her gawking at her from behind in the mirror. Villanelle bites her lower lip and raises her eyebrows, looking away and trying to act casual.

Eve smiles slowly, knowing she some power over Villanelle is this moment.

“You don’t like it,” she jokes.

“No, no,” Villanelle responds a little too quickly. “It looks,” her head twitches as she takes Eve in, “nice.”

She continues to stare at Eve, her breath shallow.

Eve revels in this.

“What else did you pick?”

Villanelle breaks free from the tension and looks down at the blouses in her arms that she suddenly doubts will look good.

Eve and Villanelle sit at a bistro table starting up their phones, shopping bags piled around them. Villanelle is wearing pink satin trousers and a matching blazer with seemingly nothing underneath. Her blonde hair is down and thrown back behind her shoulders.

She looks good.

She knows it, Eve knows it, the couple sitting at the other table know it, and the people on the street too.

But Eve also looks good.

She’s wearing fitted casual grey trousers and her curls are pulled back loosely, showcasing the neckline of her and Villanelle’s new favorite emerald-green blouse. She likes the way Villanelle steals more glances at her.

Eve watches the people strolling by on the street, her mind active again after the long distraction of the shopping excursion.

“Do you think we made a mistake going out today?”

She looks over at Villanelle who readjusts in her seat after being caught staring again.

“No. I don’t like being inside all the time. Even with you.”

“But do you think it was too risky? I mean did we just put targets on our own backs?”

“Eve, they probably already know where we are. They always know.”

“Then how were you planning on leaving before? With Konstantin?”

Villanelle sighs, “If no one knows you are about to leave, then you can get a head start.”

She spreads butter on a piece of bread eying Eve as she gazes at the people passing, wondering if any watch her as she watches them.

Eve glances over as Villanelle thrusts the knife towards her.

“Surprise!” Eve jumps back, Villanelle laughing then becoming serious, “Is the only way.”

Eve purses her lips, not entertained as Villanelle takes a crunchy bite of bread. She looks back at the street, somewhat anxiously now. The knife in Villanelle’s hand stays in her periphery.

Villanelle scoops up some jam and spreads it with the blade, then takes another bite.

She talks with the knife, “But no matter how many places you go to, or how many different identities you use, they will always be able to find you. They are _everywhere_.” Her eyes emphasize the last word.

“Then how do we beat them? How do we outrun them?”

“I am telling you that we can’t,” she says before taking another bite of bread.

“So, what then? You just go back to killing for them, and I wait around until you come home?”

Villanelle shrugs, “I would not mind coming home to you.”

She smiles and her eyes lighten, trying to steer Eve out of the conversation.

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

“What are you proposing we do then, huh? Track them down, take them out one by one until they are all dead? We don’t even know who they are.”

Eve leans in, “I thought you said Hélène was one of them.”

Villanelle short circuits, “I did. She is.”

Eve stares at her.

Villanelle falters, “I don’t actually know, okay?”

“Didn’t you get more information with your promotion? Or were you only interested in the money?”

Villanelle’s eyes detach.

“I don’t think you want to joke about money with me, Eve. If I left you right now, what would you have?” She pauses for effect. “Nothing.”

A waitress approaches their table smiling pleasantly. Villanelle’s eyes rapidly appraise her features.

“Can I interest you in any other beverages today? Wine perhaps?” she asks in English.

“No.”

“Yes,” Eve interposes with a smile.

The waitress eyes them both, unsure of what to do.

Villanelle flashes her a charming grin and responds in Italian.

“We would like a bottle of Salon Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs Brut.”

Villanelle’s accent transitions effortlessly from Italian to the French names of the champagne.

“Let me check if we have that bottle.”

“If not, Dom Pérignon Rosé will do.”

“Sure."

Villanelle waits until she’s gone.

“Those bottle costs more than a month of rent at your old shitty apartment.”

“How lovely of you to get one for me then,” Eve smiles, her tone full of false warmth.

Villanelle leans away, crossing her arms and creasing her brow, annoyed she didn’t get a rise out of Eve. She crunches on her bread, eating the last bite. Eve continues to stare out into the street, getting lost in her thoughts.

The waitress returns carrying a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and two flutes.

She speaks Italian with Villanelle.

“We didn’t have Salon or Dom Pérignon, but we have Veuve Clicquot?”

“That is perfect. She will drink anything.”

Villanelle smiles cordially at the waitress then flicks her eyes at Eve. She smiles politely, not understanding Italian.

The waitress pops the champagne and begins to pour.

Villanelle’s face fills with sorrow, “Her husband just left her.”

The waitress sympathizes. “Oh,” she looks to Eve, “Mi dispiace molto.”

She sets the glass in front of Eve.

Eve recognizes the basic phrase and the tone of her voice.

“Grazie,” she offers.

Villanelle is very amused by this. She turns back to the waitress who fills the second glass.

“She cheated on him.”

“Oh,” the waitresses brow furrows as she glances back at Eve.

Eve smiles crookedly, uncertain of how to act but noticing the sudden change in the waitress’s demeanor. She shoots Villanelle a stern and inquiring look. Villanelle can hardly contain herself.

The waitress sets the second glass in front of Villanelle, then sets the bottle on the table, “I’ll just, leave this here.”

Villanelle beams ear to ear, “Grazie mille.”

Eve takes a long drink, deliberately not looking at Villanelle who is clearly waiting for her reaction.

Eve speaks with a steady voice, “There has to be a way. There’s always a way.”

The delight falls from Villanelle’s face. She dramatically turns away from Eve, crossing her legs and aiming her hips towards the street. She takes a sip of her champagne, shaking a Valentino clad foot, pouting that she didn’t get her way. Eve looks over at her, ignoring her melodramatics.

“They’re going to send someone after you.”

Villanelle glances over, her eyes darker and more distant.

“Yes. Probably soon.” She turns back towards Eve. “But they won’t kill me.”

Eve scoffs at her arrogance, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because they haven’t yet. And I have disobeyed a lot of orders.”

Eve takes a larger sip then sets down her glass. She runs her middle finger against the blade of her butter knife. Villanelle narrows her eyes at her, trying hard to read her body language. After a moment she decides that Eve is thinking hard and isn’t angry or upset.

She straightens up in her seat.

“If you are actually serious about going after The Twelve, then we are going to need a real plan.” She raises her eyebrows at Eve. “We will need more people, resources, intelligence. This is not something you and I can do alone. Even if we work together.”

“Well Carolyn isn’t interested in pursuing The Twelve any time soon.”

“Even if she says she’s not, she is. She wants to watch them fall just as much as you do.”

Eve doesn’t respond.

“Hmm,” Villanelle tosses her head from side to side, thinking. “Okay maybe not as much. You are obsessed with it.” She tries to act serious, “It is not healthy.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eve shrugs and gestures with her glass, “here we are anyways.”

Villanelle laughs, “Yeah.”

Villanelle gives Eve a small grin, and Eve looks away trying to stifle a smile.

Villanelle studies Eve, learning her, memorizing her features.

“What are you feeling right now?” she asks curiously.

Eve looks straight at Villanelle, allowing herself to access her own feelings.

“Still. Clear.”

She leans in, resting her arms on the table.

“What are you feeling?”

Villanelle ponders this for a moment.

Has anyone ever asked her that question because they were genuinely interested in her response?

“Warm.”

They stare at each other, forgetting about the outside world for a second.

Eve leans away and grabs her glass, “We need a plan.”

Just then Eve’s new phone vibrates on the table, finishing its start up. She picks it up and reads a notification indicating that all her data has been successfully imported. Villanelle takes another sip of her champagne and carefully watches a woman with long dark hair slide sunglasses back on across the street. Eve inattentively opens her contacts and scrolls as Villanelle narrows her eyes and picks up the butter knife, twirling it in her hands.

Eve lingers on Niko’s contact info as the woman with the sunglasses slips away into an alley. Villanelle slowly licks the jam off the knife.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Carolyn rides the elevator in the Bitter Pill building. She’s got an olive-green wool coat on this morning. She checks her phone once then pockets it.

The elevator noisily lands on the 5th floor.

The doors open.

Carolyn strides purposefully into the Bitter Pill. Audrey sits at her desk staring at the empty desktop of her computer, clearly just waiting for Carolyn’s arrival.

“Good morning,” she says as Carolyn walks in. Carolyn looks at her as if this was an insult and not a welcome.

Bear spins around in his chair to face Carolyn, knocking it into his desk clumsily.

Once more Carolyn doubts her decision to have enlisted help from the Bitter Pill team.

Jamie moseys out of his office, “Carolyn.”

“Have you got it?”

“We’ve definitely got something,” Bear answers.

Audrey approaches Carolyn apprehensively, “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine.”

“Make it anyway,” Jamie tells Audrey and she retreats to the tiny kitchen.

Jamie motions to a chair next to Bear, “Please, sit.”

“I’m fine to stand.”

Bear smiles uncomfortably at her.

“Okay. Pull it up then,” Jamie says to Bear who then clicks away on his keyboard.

There’s a desk awkwardly positioned in the center of the office with a projector and large desktop computer sitting on it. Cords run from the projector to Bear’s desk, connecting to his laptop. The wall across from the projector is empty, tack and nail holes scattered about.

Jamie starts the projector and it hums but no image projects on the wall. He fiddles with it.

Bear tries to help, “It’s the square button next to the power button.”

Jamie presses the button and a blue screen with the input in the top left corner appears on the wall.

“Okay, now where’s the picture?” Jamie puts on his glasses and assesses all the buttons on the projector.

“Is it on the right input?” Bear asks.

“You always have to set it back to PC when you start it,” Audrey adds as she walks over holding two cups of tea.

Jamie pushes a button and the blue screen inverts.

“Christ,” he mutters.

Carolyn presses her middle and ring finger between her eyebrows and her thumb to her temple. Audrey hesitantly extends an arm towards her, presenting her with a cup. Carolyn just stares at her.

“Now press that button again to make it go back to normal,” Bear tells Jamie.

Jamie does and the screen inverts again, but not the right way.

“Again,” Bear instructs.

Audrey sets the mugs down on Bear’s desk. “Here, let me do it.”

Jamie throws up his hands, “Please.”

He takes off his glasses and rubs his forehead, a headache setting in from the previous night’s drinking. Audrey expertly resets the screen to the proper orientation and gets the desktop image from Bear’s laptop to appear on the wall.

“Sorry,” she mumbles to Carolyn as she grabs a mug and sits in the chair next to Bear.

“Right. Now that that’s over with,” Jamie puts his glasses back on. “Here’s what we’ve found.”

The projected image has a map of Europe on the left and code sequences on the right. White dots dispersed all throughout Europe. The dots continuously disappear and reappear at different locations, jumping around to different countries. Similarly, the lines of code disappear and new sequences take their place. There seems to be no pattern to the blinking of the codes and the dots on the map, just constant shifting.

Carolyn analyzes it carefully, putting on her glasses. Jamie and Bear look at each other, wondering who will talk first.

Jamie clears his throat, “So, this is a map of Europe-“

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Right. Uh, well. Each dot corresponds to a device, and each code represents a location.”

“So you’ve paired each device to its location?”

“Well, we couldn’t at first,” Bear says.

“Do explain,” Carolyn urges impatiently.

Bear looks at Jamie, unsure. Jamie nods at him as if to say “get on with it!”

He looks back at Carolyn, visibly nervous, “Well, first we had to hack into the phone, which actually took quite a bit of time so we had to-“

“I haven’t got all day.”

“Er, right. So…we extracted all the data then ran algorithms to determine if any of it meant anything, or there were patterns that we were missing.”

Carolyn continues to analyze the jumping dots and blinking codes.

“One of Kenny’s programs found pieces of code within larger sequences that could be put together to form GPS coordinates.”

“On the right,” Carolyn interjects.

“Yeah. But the coordinates weren’t linked to anything, they were just random locations spread across…well, not just Europe.”

This gets Carolyn’s attention.

Jamie takes over, "There were coordinates all across the globe. But we were only able to establish the ones in Europe.”

“How?”

Jamie looks back to Bear.

“Inside the phone there was SIM card with a serial number on it. After inputting it into the program, and matching it to the proper GPS coordinates of the phone, here…”

Bear clicks on the keyboard. A window pops up on the screen and he enters the serial number into the text box, then presses enter with force.

The dots slow their jumping and freeze one by one across the map.

Carolyn narrows her eyes.

Jamie speaks slowly, “A serial number matched with the correct GPS location of a device, gives the location of all devices.”

[If – Unloved]

“My God,” Carolyn mumbles under her breath.

“Yeah. There’s a lot.”

A multitude of dots are spread across Europe, appearing in almost every country with countless locations having overlapping clusters.

“But without the serial number from the phone…” Bear clicks on his keyboard; the dots go back to jumping around. “The locations bounce around randomly. But with it…” he types the serial number into the text box, the dots freeze in their locations. “You get this.”

He leans back in his chair and grabs a handful of Tangfastics.

“And you’re sure these locations are accurate?”

Audrey looks to Bear who looks to Jamie who sighs.

“There’s no way to confirm it without another serial number,” he says.

“But this can be done using a number from any device?”

“Hypothetically,” Bear says.

The weight of this settles onto Carolyn. Her thoughts dance around at the possibilities.

“Do you mean to tell me that the owner of his phone had complete access to this database?”

“Most likely not,” Jamie replies.

“The code was very complicated, we probably wouldn’t have been able to crack it without Kenny’s program,” Bear explains between chews.

Carolyn’s body sinks ever so slightly at Kenny’s name.

“It was probably more like… _they_ were using it to keep tabs of whoever owned the phone. Whoever owns any of their devices really.”

Carolyn nods, “And the only way you can obtain the serial number is via the SIM card?”

“Not necessarily,” Audrey speaks for the first time since sitting down.

Carolyn looks at her expectantly and she immediately regrets haven spoken.

Bear rescues her, “We could hack into a device, probably only a cell phone, but we could do it remotely.”

“How long will that take?”

“Weeks,” Jamie says, already sounding exhausted by the idea.

“Or days if we work nonstop,” Bear counters. He shrugs, “It’s not like we have anything else to do. The Bitter Pill no longer exists.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jamie grumbles.

Bear grabs more Tangfastics.

“Kenny would have been able to hack it within the same day,” Audrey utters almost inaudibly.

“Then why can’t you?” Carolyn demands.

Audrey looks at her with big eyes, surprised she heard her.

Bear glances over at Audrey, “Well, I’ll have to do the hacking manually, and I’m nowhere near Kenny’s level.”

“Hm.” Carolyn takes off her glasses and thinks for a second, then puts them on again. “Can you zoom in on the map? To London for example.”

“Yeah.”

Bear clicks away. Each burst of clicks brings the map in closer.

Western Europe

United Kingdom

England

London

There are numerous dots in London alone.

Carolyn scans the map noting the locations of several dots. Her eyes narrow and she leans forward slightly.

“Fascinating. Can you print this?”

“Um, well. That may take some time,” Jamie admits.

“What else can Kenny’s programs do?”

\--------

**MOSCOW**  
Konstantin shuffles down a quiet street, sticking close to the buildings. The early morning sky is grey and dim. He’s wearing a thick black overcoat but the chilling air reaches his bones, his joints aching as he walks and there’s a dull pain in his chest that always seems to be there now. He scratches his beard then looks up at the sky.

[Crash Boom Bang – Unloved]

A black Mercedes-Benz flies down the street and pulls up next to him in a smooth motion. He freezes. The pain in his chest grows as his heart starts to pound. The tinted window rolls down to reveal a gun pointed at him, a silencer on the end.

Hélène is on the other side of the trigger.

“Get in.”

Konstantin hesitates for a second considering his options. If he gets in, he might die, if he doesn’t, he will definitely die. He reaches for the door handle and slides into the back seat.

Hélène doesn’t turn to face him.

“If you try to get out I will shoot you. I won’t kill you but it will hurt and you won’t be able to make it far.”

Konstantin nods, “I am not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she says, her finger remaining on the trigger.

She hits the gas and the car speeds along the street, revving loudly before it shifts gears. Konstantin grips the seat as she takes turns too fast and weaves through traffic with ease, a small grin on her face. They fast approach a desolate parking garage in an industrial sector. A man dressed in black stands outside the building and presses a button to close the garage door as the Mercedes flies inside.

Hélène swerves tightly around the turns to reach the top level of the garage, then slams the brakes causing the car to come to a screeching halt in the center of the parking area.

“Блять!” Konstantin yells.

Hélène holds the gun in her hand keeping it pointed at Konstantin as she peers over her shoulder at him.

“How is your daughter, Konstantin?”

Konstantin’s face turns white and he breathes unsteadily through his nose and mouth. He releases his grip and lets the blood flow back into his knuckles.

“She is such a little shit.”

“Hm. Seems like she’s in a peculiar situation?”

Konstantin heart falters.

“She is young, and stupid.” He grimaces and looks out the window even though there is nothing to see. “So stupid.”

He fights hard to maintain composure.

“We were under the impression that she is very smart, and talented. Proficient in many languages. Is that not true?”

Konstantin nods, his stomach uneasy, his face pale. He laughs, “She can tell me to fuck off in at least nine languages.”

“So not including Romanian. Which she is learning now.”

His heart falters, causing him to cough. His hand reflexively drifts to his heart.

“You have made a serious mistake, Konstantin. Do you want to know why?”

He doesn’t answer.

“We would have killed you, and Irina, before you ever made it to Cuba. But now,” she laughs lightly to herself, “well, she has really piqued our curiosity.”

Konstantin swallows hard. His chest starts to tighten as his heart constricts. He can feel the blood pounding in his ears.

“Please, just kill me,” he begs in agony. “Leave her alone. Please!”

His face is full of anguish as he clutches his heart. The fog starts to settle in.

“I could kill you but this would be so much more…pleasurable, for me.”

Konstantin’s face is ghost white and his eyes are pleading. His heart slams against his ribs.

She lowers the gun, “But it would be no fun if you died right now.”

Konstantin gasps for air, trying desperately to calm his heart. Hélène waits impatiently, watching him with emotionless eyes. He works to get his breathing steadier, forcing air deeper into his lungs. The pain tears like fire in his chest but his heart slowly begins to release.

He comes back from the fog.

“You will do everything that I ask, and you will do it well. If you do not, the people in your life will die, slowly, one by one, including your daughter until there is no one left. And then I will kill you, and it will hurt.”

Konstantin looks like death warmed over.

“This is what happens when you try to leave, Konstantin. You will wish we had just killed you on a train platform somewhere after letting you think we did not know you were planning a way to leave the organization. Cuba?" she derides. "And taking one of our best assets with you?”

She laughs feverishly in a way that deeply unsettles Konstantin.

“Villanelle and Eve are in Italy, Milan. You will find them, reassure them that we know exactly where they are.”

The thought of having to track down Villanelle and Eve makes Konstantin’s heart tense again. Without warning, Hélène gets out of the car and shoots both tires on the driver’s side. The silenced gunshots echo softly around the parking garage. Her heels echo louder as she strides on the concrete. A matte dark grey Audi comes around the corner and pulls up next to her. She steps in and then she and the car are gone.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Carolyn stands around a tall table with Helen, drink in hand. She’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a black overcoat, the low collar upturned. Everyone is wearing black of differing degrees but somehow Carolyn still manages to look regal against the rest.

Paul’s service was brief with only family members taking turns talking. He was remembered for his compassion, humor, loyalty, and devotion, not only to his loved ones, but also to his career.

No one from MI6 spoke.

[Sombre – Unloved]

However Carolyn, along with Helen, Diane, Hugh, and Graham, attended the service and gathering afterwards.

Graham is the man whose wife makes the mushroom risotto.

Carolyn takes a drink of her gin and tonic, surveying the room. Helen takes a sip of her whiskey. They don’t look at each other when they speak and there are long pauses between their words.

“Such a shame,” Helen says.

“It is.”

Carolyn drinks. “Unexpected.”

“Indubitably.” Helen sips. “Yet, inexorable.”

“Utterly.”

They both drink and observe the room, taking note of those who are grieving and those who are not.

“Something has come to my attention,” Carolyn says before taking another drink.

“Substantial?”

“Unequivocal.”

Carolyn makes eye contact with Graham across the room. Their stares linger. She takes a long drink. Helen watches Graham approach out of the corner of her eye.

He stops informally by the table.

“My condolences,” he says.

“Yes,” Helen replies.

“Equally,” Carolyn responds.

None of them acknowledges the other outwardly, constantly sweeping their gaze across the room.

“Expedient,” Graham resolves as he looks around at Paul’s loved ones.

Helen takes a drink and notices Hugh eyeing their table. She avoids his gaze.

Carolyn thinks for a moment, choosing the appropriate word.

“Inciting.”

This gives Helen and Graham pause but both refrain from looking at Carolyn.

“It’s time,” Carolyn states simply.

“It is the right climate?” Graham asks, carefully enunciating the words.

“Yes. Favorable,” Carolyn responds.

“Infallible?” Helen questions.

“Virtually,” Carolyn answers.

No one says another word or makes a move. They all play the part of mourning colleague for a moment. Then Graham turns to them.

“Good to see you both," he says. "Unfortunate it was over such circumstances.”

Carolyn and Helen nod goodbye then Graham departs.

Helen looks at Carolyn for the first time, “Inclined?”

“Keen.” Carolyn bites at the word.

\--------

**MILAN**  
Eve and Villanelle stroll down the corridor of their hotel, Villanelle with a huge grin on her face, holding a small shopping bag from Buccellati, a luxury jewelry store. Eve searches around her new black Gucci purse trying to find the hotel key.

Eve and Villanelle are staying in the penthouse suite per Villanelle’s fervent demand. She refused to accept any other room. Theirs is spectacularly lavish with ruby reds and cream colors, dark woods, gilded accents, and a canopy bed which is Villanelle’s absolute favorite part. 

Eve stops walking to dig around her purse more, “I know I put it in here.”

Villanelle links her arm with Eve’s, pulling her along.

“You are so forgetful,” she jests.

Villanelle pulls a key out of some pocket of her silky deep blue trousers and flashes a smug smirk at Eve.

Eve rolls her eyes, “Well that’s good because I don’t think I ever grabbed one.”

Villanelle slides the key in and throws open the door, the smile wiped clean off her face when she sees who’s inside.

Konstantin.

“No!”

“What?” Eve’s confusion turns into fury when she sees him. “What?!”

Villanelle throws the shopping bag aside and grabs the nearest blunt object which happens to be the metal ice bucket.

“Villanelle." Konstantin tries to assuage her. "Let me talk first.”

“No!” She storms over to him, clutching the ice bucket.

“Villanelle wait, I can-“

She tosses the slurry contents at him, dousing him in freezing cold water.

“Aye, that is cold!”

Then she backhand swings the ice bucket catching him on the chin. He stumbles backwards, holding his face. Eve laughs under her breath, then refocuses on why Konstantin is there in their hotel room. She pushes her hair back, tucking it behind her ears.

“You should be in Cuba!” Villanelle shouts.

Konstantin lies on the ground, rubbing his chin. A small gash begins to bleed.

“Hm?” Villanelle’s eyes are wide, demanding an answer from him.

Eve cautiously walks closer, assessing the situation. Konstantin’s eyes dart to her then back at Villanelle who holds the ice bucket above her head ready for another hit.

“I never made it,” Konstantin shrugs with his hands.

Villanelle fake swings the ice bucket. Konstantin winces.

“Why are you here?” Eve asks in a steely tone.

Villanelle lowers the bucket and looks over her shoulder, her face softening some, impressed by Eve’s self-assurance. Eve stands next to her, looking down at Konstantin.

“Answer the question.”

Konstantin’s brow furrows with concern. He’s never feared Eve before but her tone is laced with menace.

“Okay, okay. I come to tell you,” he pushes himself up with a groan, “they know where you are.”

He rubs his chin and checks his hand to see how bad the bleeding is.

“The Twelve?” Eve asks.

Villanelle tilts her head towards Eve. That was an entirely unnecessary question but she likes the way Eve’s voice is commanding right now.

“Of course, it’s always The Twelve,” Konstantin sneers.

There’s a red patch in his beard.

[Unloved Heart – Unloved]

“Get up,” Villanelle instructs.

Konstantin slowly gets himself up off the ground.

“Sit over there,” she points to an armchair with the ice bucket.

Konstantin sits in the chair. Villanelle and Eve sit on the couch, Villanelle situated between Eve and Konstantin. She heaves the bucket at his shins; it smacks off with a loud bang.

“Пиздец!” he yells.

“How do they know where we are?” Villanelle asks icily.

Konstantin rubs his shin, grimacing, “The chin was already enough.”

“Have you been following us?” Eve demands.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” Villanelle shouts angrily.

“Hélène knows.”

“What?” Villanelle’s muscles tense.

“She knows you’re here, she knows about Cuba, and she knew about us trying to leave.”

Eve glances at Villanelle. Her neck tics, her facial muscles twitch.

“What?” she breathes out.

“She knew everything. All of it. The whole time.”

Eve watches Villanelle’s eyes darken as she sets her jaw and her face becomes hard, her body rigid.

She shakes her head, “No.”

The darkness pulls her in.

“Is Hélène one of The Twelve?” Eve asks. She has to know.

“Yes,” Konstantin answers plainly.

“No,” Villanelle says louder, more to herself. Her eyes become distant.

Eve’s eyes flick to Villanelle then back Konstantin.

Villanelle’s leg shakes, “What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. She came after me.”

Eve glances back at Villanelle who looks like a shark that’s just sensed blood.

She takes over the questioning.

“Where? When?”

Konstantin rubs his shin, “Moscow. Two days ago.”

Villanelle clenches and releases her jaw trying to contain the darkness.

“Why were you in Moscow?” Eve asks.

Konstantin sighs and drops his shoulders, beaten down by all of the events of the past week or so.

“Irina.”

Villanelle exhales and looks away from Konstantin, biting her lip trying to stay in control.

“They want to recruit her,” Konstantin explains gloomily.

“What? Why?” Eve presses.

Villanelle is pulled back into the conversation.

“They think she has…potential, because of her languages, and because…” he glowers, not wanting to say the words.

“Because what?”

“Because she has killed someone again.”

Villanelle barks a laugh, “Ha!”

“This is not funny. They are going to take her.”

Eve tries to piece everything together.

“Wh- How? Where is she?”

“She is at a psychiatric detention center. They have-“

“God, who did she kill?”

Konstantin hesitates, reluctant to tell them. “One of the staff.”

Villanelle laughs again, “Ha!”

“This is serious, Villanelle.”

“Okay, okay, wait. Um.” Eve blocks out Villanelle’s antics to think. “Why can’t you just go get her?”

“They won’t release her.”

“Well you’re her dad, can’t you like, make them?”

“No. It doesn’t work that way. Not in this situation.”

Villanelle shifts back into playful some.

“Because she has killed so many people,” she says, bouncing on the words.

Eve flicks her dark eyes at Villanelle, irritated with her. She’s in work mode trying to get information.

“Okay. So, Hélène knows where we are, she knew about your plan, your daughter is being recruited by The Twelve, and you can’t help her, so…let me guess, you want us to do something for you?”

“And by us she means me.”

Eve’s glances over at Villanelle who is now smiling again.

Konstantin nods, “I came here to inform you that they know where you are.”

“And?”

“And…because I need your help.”

“As if we would help you after everything you’ve done,” Villanelle hisses.

Eve throws a hand up, “Hold on.”

Villanelle’s brow furrows, offended by Eve’s dismissal.

“What’s in it for us?” Eve inquires.

“Eve, he has nothing we want.”

“I have your passport.”

Villanelle shrugs nonchalantly, “So? I can get a new one.”

“Villanelle, they know everything. They know where you are living, where you eat dinner, who you talk to on the phone, what you are buying at the stores. All of it.”

“Then they must already know about that?” Eve nods at the passport.

“Probably yes. But it is better than trying to get a new one.”

“Eve knows people, she has connections,” Villanelle says confidently.

Eve falls back against the couch, “Hardly anymore.”

Konstantin frowns, lips in a thin line. He tries to come up with a way to convince Villanelle to help.

“We can split the money.”

“I don’t want your money. I have so much money already, I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

Konstantin looks down at his writhing hands. He knows Villanelle is his only option for trying to get to Irina before The Twelve do.

“Villanelle, I am asking you because I can’t ask anyone else. I need you to do this for me, please.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes at him, her leg starts shaking again. Her dark eyes jump to Eve then back at Konstantin.

Eve talks with her hands, “What? You want her to just march in there and haul Irina out?”

“You both are smart.” He nods at her, “You can help her figure out a way.”

Eve scoffs and throws up her hands. Villanelle’s eyes become darker.

“Do not disrespect Eve like that.”

Konstantin is taken aback, “What? I said she is smart?”

“No.” Villanelle stands up, her body tensing again. “You need to leave. Now.”

Konstantin shrinks into the chair frowning, his brow furrowed.

“Go!” Villanelle gestures forcefully towards the door.

Eve carefully observes. Konstantin’s eyes dart over to her as she stands slowly.

“Get out of our room,” she states. Her voice cuts through him.

She can see Villanelle’s muscles flex at the sound of her cold voice.

Konstantin throws his hands up, surrendering. He stands up unhurriedly and brushes himself off, feeling the cold water still on his jacket.

“Okay," he nods. "I will go.”

He staggers towards the door, Villanelle on his heels and Eve right behind her. He reaches for the handle then turns. Both Villanelle and Eve glare at him with dark eyes. He nods once then pulls open the door, letting it slam behind him.

Eve and Villanelle stand staring at each other, trying not to fuel the other's rage.

“Are you-“

“I don’t know.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
Still wearing the black turtleneck and overcoat, Carolyn strides up to her front door in rather good spirits and throws it open to find Geraldine fretting about in the hallway.

“Geraldine. How terrific.”

Carolyn doesn’t acknowledge her obvious worry and heads straight for the kitchen. Geraldine creases her brow and frowns, following after.

“Mum, are you alright?”

Carolyn grabs a lowball glass and adds a few ice cubes, “I’m perfectly content.”

She pours from the Tanqueray bottle.

“You’ve just come from a memorial service but you don’t seem upset at all.”

“I don’t see the point in getting distressed over such trivial matters.”

“A service because someone died is not trivial, mum.”

“Depends on the person I suppose.”

She takes a drink.

“Do you really never process things emotionally?”

“Geraldine, I have found that emotions simply exist only to get in the way of accomplishing quality work.” She takes another sip. “I’ve rarely found experiencing them to be beneficial. Especially as of late.”

“God mum, that is truly an awful way of looking at them.”

Carolyn shrugs, “I’ve managed to be successful nonetheless.”

An uncomfortable silence takes over as Geraldine works up the courage to explain why, yet again, she is still at home. Carolyn tosses back the rest of her drink and smiles a small smile to herself. Geraldine looks at her utterly confused and concerned.

She steps closer then sighs heavily, “I know it’s been over a week, and I was supposed to have-“

“Please. I’m going to need another drink before we have this conversation again.”

Carolyn pours a generous amount and tosses half of it back.

“Continue.”

Geraldine lets out another sigh, “Well, I’ve been trying to find a new place since my previous room was leased because I was gone for so long.”

Carolyn narrows her eyes, not wanting to hear this story for another time.

“But it’s been quite difficult really, and apartments are unnecessarily expensive, and I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to afford some place decent. And so that means I’ll have to look for a job, which takes time, and I-“

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Carolyn interrupts her.

“What?”

“As much as it exasperates me, I’ve gotten used to having you around here. Even though you are in my way most of the time.”

Geraldine looks at her, completely bewildered.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes. I’ve already said so,” Carolyn says then takes a drink.

“I just, I don’t understand? You were so adamant before.”

“I’ve reconsidered.”

Carolyn stares out the window wistfully. Geraldine tries to read her but it’s impossible to detect a reason as to why she would allow her to stay longer.

“I still miss him,” Carolyn says finally.

Geraldine drops her shoulders and empathizes, “Me too, mum. And that’s okay.”

“As different as you two are, were, I can still see some of him in you.”

Geraldine goes to Carolyn for a hug, feeling her sadness. Carolyn holds up her glass, blocking her.

“Don’t. Please.”

Geraldine sighs and shakes her head.

“It’s entirely temporary, by no means an invitation to stay forever.”

“Okay. Thank you, mum,” Geraldine smiles, clearly touched by this warm gesture. She doesn’t care what motives lie behind it.

“Still do look for another place to live.” Carolyn looks at her head on. “And a job. You can’t just waft through life with no direction like some withered leaf on a gusty day, Geraldine.”

Geraldine nods, the brief warmness replaced by customary coldness.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some work to finish yet.”

Carolyn glides away.

“Mum, it’s late.”

She turns and nods once, “Yes.”

Carolyn treads up the stairs to her study. She falls onto the couch and puts her feet up on the coffee table, still in a good mood even after that unfortunate discussion with Geraldine.

At least she will be able to keep eyes on her now.

She takes another sip of gin, the glass near empty, and lets the comforting heaviness settle into her body, relaxing a bit. She pulls her phone out of her coat pocket and dials Eve, exploiting her resources to acquire her new number.

It goes straight to voicemail.

Carolyn takes another drink waiting for the automated messaging system to finish.

The tone sounds.

“Eve. Something has come up that I think may interest you which will allow you to continue your quest for justice. I would need you to leave Lecco and return back to London for a meeting as soon as possible. Preferably tomorrow. Actually yes, tomorrow. And do tell Villanelle she is more than welcome to accompany you, though I suspect she already will be as the two of you have been carousing around Northern Italy, seeming to be having a grand time. If you don’t show, I’ll assume you both to be indifferent in this matter.”

She ends the calls then tosses back the rest of the gin.

\--------

**LECCO, ITALY**  
Eve and Villanelle lounge in another hotel, though not as nice as the one in Milan much to Villanelle’s dismay.

A room overlooking Lake Como will do for now.

Carolyn’s voicemail plays on speakerphone. Eve listens to it growing more and more irritated while Villanelle is very much amused.

Eve flops down on the couch holding a glass of red wine.

“Great, now Carolyn knows where we are too.”

She takes a long drink. Villanelle sits next to her, wanting to amend the situation by making a smooth move.

“Are you going tomorrow? Are we going?”

Eve shrugs, “It’s not like we have a choice if we want to go after The Twelve.”

“I don’t want to go to London," Villanelle pouts. "I don’t like it there. The only reason I ever went was to see you.”

“Or to kill someone,” Eve retorts.

Villanelle scoots next to Eve and rests her head on her shoulder, nuzzling into her. Eve rolls her eyes.

She gestures with her free hand, “I still don’t understand why we had to come here if The Twelve already know where we are. And apparently Carolyn has known this whole time too.”

“Because staying in the same place all the time is so boring.”

Eve takes another drink. Villanelle pushes off of her and picks up the wine bottle, admiring it.

“Do you actually ever taste what you are drinking?”

“No.” Eve shrugs, “Honestly, I’m just trying to get drunk.”

“Then why don’t you just drink vodka or something?”

“You were the one who got that bottle of wine.”

“For you because it is a vintage Château Lafite.”

Eve looks at Villanelle over the wine glass as she takes a refined sip.

“Honestly, Eve, you have no taste, in food or fashion.”

“Oh, well not all of us can afford to eat at five-star restaurants and wear designer clothes all the time.”

Villanelle ignores Eve’s remark.

“Can you at least try to appreciate this gift I got for you?”

Eve takes a sip.

“This is exquisite,” she purrs.

“Okay now you are just pretending.”

“Well what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Actually taste it and tell me how good it is. Tell me how much you like it.”

Eve slumps against the couch, defeated. She honestly can’t tell the difference between this vintage wine and the cheap bottle she used to buy at the Korean supermarket.

Villanelle waits for Eve’s next move.

They are both still trying to figure each other out.

“Drink it with me,” Eve says evenly.

Villanelle looks at her confused, “You know I don’t like to drink.”

Eve sits up and leans closer to Villanelle, holding out her glass, speaking with a silky voice, “Tell me exactly how good it is.”

Villanelle eyes her suspiciously. “Eve, are you trying to get me drunk?” she asks, swiveling her body with the words.

Eve collapses back into the couch, “Oh my God.”

“What? What did I do wrong?”

Eve runs a hand through her curls, “Nothing.”

“Then why are you being so,” Villanelle mimics being grumpy, “all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know,” Eve grumbles.

“You should be happy. I got you a gift.”

“Yeah which I was trying to share with you to show you that I liked it,” Eve snaps.

Villanelle shrugs and shakes her head, “That makes no sense.”

Eve rests her head on her hand, looking away from Villanelle.

Can this really work?

She takes another drink.

“And you are still drinking it?”

“Jesus Christ, Villanelle, what do you want me to do with it then?”

“I don’t know!” Villanelle yells then storms off.

Eve peers over the back of the couch, curious and only somewhat concerned about Villanelle’s outburst.

Villanelle is gone for almost too long.

She returns, holding a wine glass, a displeased scowl on her face. She falls onto the couch close to Eve and holds it out refusing to look at her.

Eve tries to contain her amusement but she smiles wide.

“Oh,” she nods, gratified by Villanelle’s submission.

Villanelle stares at her with some levity in her dark eyes.

“Well okay then,” Eve grins.

She grabs the bottle and pours Villanelle a glass.

“Slower,” Villanelle corrects.

Eve flashes her a vexed look.

[It’s Not You, It’s Me – Unloved]

Eve sleeps on the couch, two empty bottles of red wine on the coffee table of which Villanelle only had two and a half glasses. Eve’s head rests on Villanelle’s chest, Villanelle’s arm around her.

She was playing with Eve’s curls until she fell asleep which was quite some time ago and now she’s uncomfortable and overheating.

She tries to wriggle out from under Eve but there’s no way to do it without waking her.

Oh well.

She slides out from beneath Eve, able to keep her from falling forward and being startled awake. Eve rouses but groggily cozies back into the couch.

“What are you doing?” she asks with a groan.

Villanelle tilts her head and gazes fondly at Eve but her voice is empty.

“Going for a walk.”

She watches Eve, waiting for the even rise and fall of her breathing to return. She gives her one final look before gliding away.

She ties her hair into a sleeked low bun then she grabs her phone from the table by the door, throws on her jacket, and jams her feet into Fendi boots. She slips out of the hotel room without a sound.

Villanelle walks briskly down the sidewalk, eyes darting to all the shadows, anticipating an attack. It’s cold but she doesn’t care. She notices headlights turn on behind her, their glow reflecting in the windows of the building across the street.

She clenches her hands into fists, readying to fight.

A black FIAT Spider pulls away from the curb and follows her slowly, then revs and glides up beside her. The windows are all rolled down. The woman with sharp features and piercing dark eyes who picked up Hélène from the hospital in Scotland sits behind the wheel, smiling at Villanelle as if they’re good friends.

“Paris ne vous manque pas?” Don’t you miss Paris?

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Paris and season 1
> 
> I like to pretend that I know about luxurious things like clothes, cars, and wine but I don’t at all
> 
> Thank you Google translate for helping me pretend to know different languages
> 
> Shout out to Fixy for describing predator Villanelle as a shark in Quid Pro Quo and giving me the idea to use here. I felt that it was very fitting
> 
> Feedback is welcome!


	3. There Will Be Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène gets Villanelle working for The Twelve again while Carolyn sends Eve on a mission to get the serial number making it hard for the pair to stay apart for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some action in this one!
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):
> 
> La La La – Unloved  
> Without Love – Unloved  
> Fail We May Sail We Must – Unloved  
> After Dinner – Unloved  
> Mama – Unloved  
> Bonnie & Clyde – Die Toten Hosen  
> No Friend of Mine – Unloved  
> I Could Tell You But I’d Have to Kill – Unloved  
> Far from Here – Unloved  
> Xpectations – Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: There Will Be Blood](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4iywRJLmKfgeLvKIuJySPC)

**PARIS**  
[La La La – Unloved]  
Hélène stands in a large sunroom on the second story. Rain patters on the glass of the many windows that surround her. There’s a dark wood conference table in the room with twelve chairs situated around it. She gazes pensively out the to the gardens below, watching the rain drip down the panes. So far everything has gone according to her plan.

Villanelle sulks through the door, a petulant frown on her face. The woman with the piercing eyes and sharp features struts in behind her grinning smugly.

Hélène smiles to herself before turning to them, “Ah, Villanelle.”

She walks up to her, grinning. Her eyes jump to the other woman who flashes her a coquettish smirk, getting under her skin some.

Hélène squeezes both of Villanelle’s arms around her biceps making her withdrawal slightly, uncomfortable by her touch. She lets her hands slide down, still grinning.

“So you’ve met Marion.”

“God, her accent is thick,” Villanelle says with an eye roll.

Marion chuckles as she struts close to Villanelle, looking her up and down as she passes.

Villanelle is mildly annoyed, and the tiniest bit intrigued. She wonders how hard it would be to fight her and how long it would take to kill her.

“You don’t speak French anymore?” Hélène asks.

“Only when I want to,” Villanelle scowls.

“Hm.”

Hélène turns and leads Villanelle into the room towards the dark table. Villanelle follows reluctantly, keeping Marion in her vision. She stops abruptly. Her head snaps to the side.

“What is that doing here?”

Hélène looks over her shoulder nonchalantly as if she doesn’t know what Villanelle is talking about.

Villanelle’s eyes fix on the tiny chair up against the wall.

“I know how much you liked it.” Hélène gestures towards the chair, switching to speaking in French. “Sit.”

Villanelle is suddenly unsure if she wants to sit in the tiny chair now that she has the chance, but it is enticing. She walks up to it cautiously, eyeing it. She tilts her head.

It really is tiny.

She sits, her hips almost too wide for the seat, shifting around uncomfortably, stretching her legs out, crossing them then uncrossing them, bending her knees awkwardly.

Marion laughs. Hélène flashes her a conspiring grin of satisfaction.

Villanelle scowls as she settles on a position, determined to make it work. One leg is stretched out, the other is bent to the side.

Hélène looks down at her, waiting for her to get up but she doesn’t.

“Hm.”

Villanelle now hates the tiny chair.

Hélène continues in French and Villanelle responds back in the language, mainly to show off her near perfect accent.

“It is good to see you here, Villanelle. I was beginning to worry that we wouldn’t get to see each other in person again.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes.

“There have been some changes in personnel,” Hélène says.

“Lot of turnover lately,” Villanelle agrees.

Hélène laughs, “Yes, but all expendable. Easy to replace.”

Villanelle scoffs then nods towards Marion, “She is Rhian’s replacement?”

Marion leans back in her chair facing Villanelle, legs spread, one arm thrown behind the chair cockily.

“No. Rhian was merely a means to an end. Temporary. A distraction.”

Villanelle scrunches her brow.

“Marion is like you.”

“Arrogant?” Villanelle smirks, amused by her own remark.

Hélène chuckles, playing along, “Essential.”

The smug grin falls off Villanelle’s face. She clenches her jaw.

Hélène soaks up Villanelle’s jealousy. She leans against the table, pushing her chest out.

“Did you really think you were the only one?”

Villanelle shifts in the chair, putting it together.

“You don’t care I killed Rhian.”

Hélène shrugs, “I expected it.”

Villanelle’s eyes darken as this sinks in. She bites the inside of her lower lip.

“For someone who allegedly doesn’t have access to her emotions, you sure do act on them.”

Marion smirks at Villanelle. Hélène pushes off the table and wanders back to the windows, looking out at the rain again. Villanelle seizes the opportunity and flings herself out of the tiny chair and into the one at the head of the table. Marion sits to her right, laughing under her breath.

Hélène saunters around the table, “How is Eve?”

Villanelle stiffens. “Better dressed,” she retorts.

Hélène grins, “We thought that keeping the two of you apart would help you concentrate more on your work. We were wrong, evidently. I want to try something new.”

Villanelle and Marion follow Hélène with their dark brown eyes as she makes her way towards the other head of the table.

“You were clearly very preoccupied with her before. Unfocused, sloppy, inefficient.” She shrugs, “Letting you two be together should solve all that, no?”

Hélène’s self-assurance makes both Villanelle and Marion shift anxiously.

“Eve is no longer important to us, unless she affects your ability to do your job.” Hélène pulls a postcard out of her back pocket then slides it down the table towards Villanelle. “The American government official. You will complete the kill this time.”

Villanelle flips the postcard over.

Prague.

Hélène stands at the head of the table opposite of Villanelle.

“I would be remiss not to tell you that if you don’t fulfill your responsibilities however, I will be left with no option but to kill Eve. And I will make you watch as I do it.”

Villanelle’s eyes darken further and become vacant.

“Let’s not let it get to that,” Hélène grins, then slips a thumb drive out of her front pocket and slides it down to Villanelle.

“What is this?” Villanelle scoffs, holding it up.

“Something new. A special operation.”

Villanelle gestures towards Marion, “Make her do it.”

Hélène smiles wickedly, “We picked this just for you.”

She rounds the table and works her way down the other side.

“Do not let your emotions get in your way, Villanelle. You will regret it if you do.”

Hélène pulls a knife out of the back of her slacks so fast neither Villanelle nor Marion can react.

Villanelle’s eyes flicker and lock on the knife. Her entire body tenses, her nostrils flare. She swallows hard and huffs a shaky breath.

Hélène smirks with sheer delight, holding the knife Eve stabbed Villanelle with.

“We are, everywhere, Villanelle.” She laughs lightly to herself, “Do not ever forget that.”

She sends the knife flying down the table at Villanelle, blade first. Villanelle slams her palm on the handle stopping it just before it hits her. Marion raises an eyebrow at Villanelle before she gets up and follows Hélène to the door.

Villanelle can’t look away from the blade.

“Two assignments?” she asks, then switches to English, “That will be expensive.”

Hélène pauses, holding the door, “You are the best, so be the best.”

**KILLING EVE**

**LONDON**  
Eve paces around the front of Carolyn’s house, her messy hair up in a bun. She holds her phone up to her ear appearing very frazzled.

“Come on, Villanelle.”

The automated voicemail answers.

“Damn it!”

She dials again but still no answer. This time she leaves a message.

“Where the hell are you? I was worried before and now I’m just annoyed. Carolyn is going to think we’re not serious and that’s going to ruin our chances of going after The Twelve.”

She opens her messaging app angrily then pauses and drops her shoulders.

She texts: Please just let me know you’re alive

[Without Love – Unloved]

Eve lets herself in. She looks around the quiet house.

“Carolyn?” she calls, then heads to the living room first, getting no response.

Carolyn sits on the couch holding a magnifying glass very close to a vinyl record, carefully inspecting the surface. Eve watches her for a second. Carolyn looks up over her glasses.

“Eve." Her eyes appraise Eve's outfit, "I can see she’s influenced your choice of attire.”

She sets down the magnifying glass and slips the record into its sleeve.

“This is the Blue Note1568 by Hank Mobley, an immensely talented jazz saxophonist. It’s worth nearly nine thousand pounds in mint condition and I bought it thinking as such but it appears that I’ve been duped. There’s a rather intricate scratch on side two.”

Eve furrows her brow; this information not important to her.

Carolyn glances towards the front door, waiting for Villanelle to pop around the corner but she doesn’t.

“Oh dear. She won’t be joining us.”

Eve slings off her purse then plops down on the couch across from Carolyn.

She throws up her hands, “I don’t what happened. We were together last night and then she was just gone this morning.”

“She’s like a wild cat, Eve. You can’t keep her inside, cooped up all the time and expect her not to bolt off at the first opportunity.”

“She didn’t bolt.”

Carolyn looks around, “Where is she then?”

Eve groans and rests her head in her hands, “I don’t know.” She frowns and after a moment raises her head back up, looking exhausted, “It’s not like she left a note.”

Carolyn deftly slides the record back into its album cover.

“Come to think of it, miscommunication was at the root of the majority of the arguments that ultimately led to each of my divorces.”

“Did it have anything to do with your tendency to gloss over the truth?”

“No, I communicated quite clearly they simply never wanted to hear what I had to say.”

Eve checks her phone then slumps back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“Are you at all interested in why I asked you here?”

Eve sits up straight, eyes checking her phone once then glance up at Carolyn.

“Yes.”

“It’s just that you seem rather distracted.”

“No, it’s-“

“Because this is something that requires full attention.”

“I know. I ju-“

“I don’t think you do.”

“Carolyn, I’m-“

“Are you here, really, Eve?”

Eve creases her brow, glaring at Carolyn. “Yes,” she says firmly.

Carolyn tosses a thick manila folder on the coffee table; it lands with a thud. Eve reaches for it and opens it in her lap. The map of Europe with the GPS coordinates sits on top.

She studies it, “What is this?”

Carolyn sighs and removes her glasses, “I am under the impression that those are the locations of devices that belong to members of The Twelve.”

“Well there’s definitely more than twelve,” Eve retorts as she flips through the papers, stimulated by what she finds. “Jesus, how did you get all this?”

Carolyn narrows her eyes, contemplating, “It was encrypted in Paul’s phone.”

“Paul?” Eve looks up, a finger holding her place in the stack of papers. She can’t conceal her surprise that Paul had his hands on something this big.

Carolyn nods, “Yes.”

Eve rummages through the remaining documents, confused.

“Well, how’d you access it then?” she asks.

“The Bitter Pill.”

Eve chuckles, “God, you went to the Bitter Pill?”

“I’d no choice.”

This interests Eve.

“What do you mean?”

“All of this, is…off the record.”

Eve lets out a small laugh, “Do you ever do anything on record?”

Carolyn gets up from the couch with a frustrated grunt.

Eve looks at her with concern, “Wait. What are you-”

“Well I certainly won’t be disrespected in my own home, Eve.”

Eve sinks into the couch, “Carolyn.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for that.”

Eve creases her brow, slighted.

“You asked me here.”

“And I can tell you to leave.”

Neither make a move.

Eve shrugs, “So what next then? What are you planning to do with this?”

Carolyn hesitates, “I can’t do much of anything yet.”

Eve is unwillingly pulled back in.

“Why?” she asks.

Carolyn glides back towards the couch.

“I need more information to be sure before I act. It’s critical.” She sits. “One wrong move at this juncture would be detrimental, would undo years of grinding work.”

Eve is intrigued even though she doesn’t want to be.

“How do you mean?” she asks carefully.

“Those coordinates are the _believed_ locations. I need them confirmed,” Carolyn says with a shrug, like it will be some simple task.

Eve scoffs and throws up her hands, “How?”

Carolyn snaps her attention behind Eve.

“Geraldine, would you care to pull up a chair?”

Eve looks over her shoulder at Geraldine who is mostly tucked away in the stairway.

“Uhh, no,” she stutters. “Sorry. I was just-”

“Just what? Certainly not just passing through.”

Geraldine frowns, indignant, “No. I was just leaving.”

Carolyn stares, waiting for her to go.

“I’ve a job interview in Bristol.”

“Swell.”

Geraldine scoffs then stomps out the front door.

Eve turns back around to Carolyn, amused, “She’s still living here?”

Carolyn looks at Eve head-on, with cold eyes.

“Hold your cards close to your chest, Eve. Including with Villanelle.”

Eve creases her brow, “Are you saying...that…?”

Carolyn’s expression remains emotionless.

“I need confirmatory evidence.”

Eve throws up her hands, fed up with Carolyn’s roundabout explanation.

“Well how do we get that then?”

“ _You_ , will go to the Bitter Pill, ask them-“

“Oh,” Eve leans forward, piqued, “me?”

“Yes. I can’t be involved in this part of the operation.”

“And why is that, Carolyn?” Eve asks, leaning into the words.

“I need a serial number from a device that belongs to a known member of The Twelve.”

“Villanelle doesn’t have a-“ Eve cuts herself off.

She sighs despondently, slumping back into the couch and looking off to the side.

“Konstantin.”

“Yes," Carolyn confirms. "The Bitter Pill will inform you more of what exactly you’ll need to obtain, but it’s imperative that Konstantin doesn’t realize what you’re trying to carry out.”

Eve taps her fingers on the stack of papers in her lap.

“Do you ever get tired of making other people do your dirty work?”

“On the contrary. Don’t take it personally Eve, you’re the best person for the job.”

Eve’s eyes darken a shade.

“How do you know Helene?” she throws out casually.

Carolyn doesn’t respond.

“Was she another one of your 80s affairs?”

“Well it was more late 90s, but Hélène,” she corrects the pronunciation, “is an old acquaintance, yes.”

Eve drums her fingers, waiting for more.

“We met in Lyon in the late summer. She was there for a meeting with a sleeper agent of the SVR, and I had just finished a debriefing with a high-ranking member of Mossad. I remember it was an uncharacteristically cold night and we’d run into each other outside of L' Antiquaire. Both of us acted like we didn’t know what we were doing but it became quite clear later on that that wasn’t true, for either of us.”

Eve exhales an irritated breath and rolls her eyes.

Carolyn reminisces, “Hm. That was years ago. And she was far younger than me, much like you and Villanelle are now.”

Eve scoffs, “Oh.”

Carolyn shakes her head innocently and shrugs, “You brought it up.”

Eve gets up off the couch, irate.

“You know what, Carolyn.” She tosses the manila folder onto the coffee table. “I’m not the starry-eyed, inexperienced MI5 agent I used to be. I have been through hell and back for you, chasing down intel and going on suicide missions to try to take down an organization that, quite frankly at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you’re part of.”

She runs a hand over her head, fingers pulling at her curls.

“God, I lost everything for you. My job, my house, my husband,” she shakes her head angrily thinking of Bill, “my best friend, almost my life. And right now, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.” She stalks closer to Carolyn. “I sacrificed so much for you, more than you could ever know. I deserve to be treated with more respect and you know it. I’m worth more than your underhanded side jobs now, Carolyn.”

Carolyn maintains her composure.

“You got your assassin, Eve. I know what it is that you’re really after.”

Eve scoffs and shakes her head, antagonized by Carolyn’s snide remark. She throws her purse over her shoulder.

“Good luck,” she spits before storming out.

Carolyn rests her chin in the crook of her hand, pondering solemnly.

\-------- [Fail We May Sail We Must - Unloved]

**PRAGUE**  
Villanelle slinks down the hallway of a ritzy hotel. Her hair is long and black with chunky bangs, her irises are jade-colored, highlighted by a dark cat-eye, and she's wearing a long black leather trench coat with laced stilettos that have very high heels.

She looks splendidly sinister.

She notes the security camera at the end of the hall, which she already knew was there, along with the two by the elevators.

Villanelle knocks on the door of room 438 twice, then waits.

No response.

She knocks repeatedly until she hears someone fumbling around inside.

A man answers the door. It’s Rokes, the loud American from the golf course in Scotland. She stares at him, her expression blank. His eyes slowly make their way from her face down to her heels, then back up to her eyes.

“Let me in,” she commands with a German accent.

“Oh, uh yeah. Of course.”

He’s barely leaning out of the doorway before she pushes past him, surveying the room. He closes the door quickly behind her then stares at her, her back to him.

He clearly does not remember their first encounter.

Villanelle planned a few ways to kill him but gave herself the option to improvise in the heat of the moment.

She opens her trench coat as she turns to him, revealing a strappy leather harness bra and a leather garter belt with cinches around her thighs. Her eyes are far away. She smiles fiendishly at him as he gawps at her.

“I uh, I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’re so…” he stammers.

She strides over to him, head held high, asserting her dominance. He practically cowers before her with wide eager eyes.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“There will be blood,” Villanelle states, her tone harsh.

Rokes lets out a sigh, delighted to hear this.

She prods her fingers into his chest, hard, “To the bed.”

He obeys, enthralled by her command. He waits by the bed for further instruction. Villanelle stalks up to him, pulling open her coat some to expose a whip fastened to the inside. He trembles with anticipation, giddy.

It’s disgusting she thinks.

She lets her coat drape back in front of her, covering most of her body, then locks her merciless eyes on his while slyly slipping a heel off her foot. She flashes her teeth one last time then slams the heel of the stiletto into his throat. He gasps and clutches his throat with a hand, stunned. The excitement drains from his eyes, panic filling its place. She hits the heel into his throat again then shoves him onto the bed. He wheezes as he frantically tries to scurry away from her, one hand clinging to his throat.

Villanelle lunges at him, grappling with him on the mattress until she straddles him. He flails his arms about trying to get a solid hit to her face as she clamps her hands around his throat. The panic becomes terror in his eyes.

As much as Villanelle wants to fight it, it exhilarates her.

Rokes's face turns red and sweat starts to bead on his forehead as she squeezes harder. He gags trying to gulp for air as he claws at her hands furiously. His eyes begin to bulge and his face is almost purple. Tears form in his eyes and she can see them shrinking farther and farther away.

Then she releases.

Rokes gasps and sucks in air, coughing wretchedly.

Only momentary relief.

She spins on one knee swinging her leg from around him as she grasps his shirt near the shoulders and heaves him onto his stomach.

He is very large. And heavy.

He turns his face to the side, wheezing and panting, desperately trying to catch his breath. Villanelle pulls the whip from her coat and snaps it once then grabs his wrists, yanking his arms behind him.

“Please, please stop!” he cries, his pleas muffled by the comforter.

She wraps the whip around his wrists, tying his hands together behind his back.

He flounders about on the mattress, “Stop! This is too much!”

Is he crying?

She rolls her eyes theatrically as she tightens the knot.

She considered hog-tying him but now he’s squirming around too much and she’s just irritated.

She gets back onto the bed and pushes one knee into his lower back as she lifts his head by his hair.

He is crying.

“Please, please! I’ll give you anything you want. Money! Take my wallet. Please, God help me.”

Villanelle’s eyes are unsparing.

“I want this,” she says, her Russian accent returning.

She slips a hunting knife from the inside of her coat and slices his throat in one fell swoop, spilling blood all over the white comforter. Her eyes gleam as she watches blood spurt from his carotid artery for a few pulses, then she releases his hair, letting his lifeless body drop on the mattress.

Villanelle climbs off the bed and gazes at him, her head tilted to the side, taking it all in.

Then the thrill vanishes.

She stabs the knife into the bedside table; blood drips down the long blade. She picks up her heel and slips it back on then does up her coat.

“Americans,” she snarls.

Then she’s out the door.

\-------- [After Dinner – Unloved]

**LONDON**  
Eve trudges across the Bitter Pill parking lot, pulling on her hood to shield herself from the drizzling rain. She dials Villanelle.

No answer.

Her voicemail box must be nearly full. She leaves a message anyways.

“Okay seriously this is not how relationships are supposed to work. I really need to talk to you. Call me back.”

Eve hesitates at the front door of the building.

“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Eve slides off her hood as she walks into the Bitter Pill. It’s messy and a little drab, but it brings back a fondness.

“Eve,” Audrey stands. “We weren’t sure if-”

“Can I get a cup of tea?" She loosens her cashmere scarf, "I was freezing my tits off walking over here.”

“Uh, sure.” Audrey drifts to the kitchen.

Bear comes out of Jamie’s office holding a box of Cap’n Crunch. He jams a large handful in his mouth as he notices Eve standing by the center desk. He crunches slowly and looks down at the box then back at her. He clutches it closer to his chest.

Eve rolls her eyes, “Does no one else work here anymore?”

Bear tentatively walks over to her.

“There’s no work to do." He crunches, "The Bitter Pill, kind of, er, went up in flames after the raid.”

He tosses another handful in his mouth.

“Huh.” She gestures at the desk, “What’s with this setup?”

Bear munches more, then swallows, “It’s for research.” He stares at her with narrowed eyes, “You look…different.” He can’t quite put his finger on why. “Is your hair…?”

She waves a hand dismissively, “No. It’s the clothes.”

He continues to stare. She looks down at the business casual outfit she threw on that morning.

Even if the pieces don’t really go together, it’s far better than anything she used to wear coming into the Bitter Pill.

“Huh,” is all Bear gives after a moment.

She holds out her hand for some cereal. He tips the box to pour a handful.

“No. Gimme it.” She steals the whole box.

“Hey,” he whines.

Eve grabs a handful and shoves it in her mouth.

She waves at the projector on the desk, “Turn this thing on. I want to see what it is.”

Bear can hardly pull himself away from his Cap’n Crunch.

“Fine.”

Over in his office, Jamie yells loudly at whoever is on the other end of the line, pacing around gesturing as he shouts.

“Is he okay?” Eve asks.

“Not really, no,” Bear says.

Eve eyes Jamie as Bear starts up the projector. The map of Europe illuminates on the wall on the first attempt.

Eve analyzes the image while munching away, “It’s so much more impressive when it’s that big.”

Bear’s eyes stay on the cereal box. Eve rolls her eyes and takes another handful then hands it back.

“Here.”

Bear seizes it with glee.

Eve flops into the chair next to him like old times.

She nods her head at the map, “I already know about that. Carolyn said there was something else I needed to get from you. Uh, a number or something?”

“Well not _from_ us, but, yeah, you need to get a serial number.”

Audrey arrives with Eve’s very hot cup of tea.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.”

Eve scoots her chair closer to Bear’s desk. She’s in full work mode.

She takes a sip of tea.

“Mm,” she grimaces from the scalding hot liquid.

Audrey looks over from her desk with troubled eyes. She always gets the tea wrong it seems.

Eve goes to take another sip without thinking. Bear watches with big eyes. She stops herself when the mug touches her lips.

“God, what am I doing?” she mutters to herself.

She sets the mug on Bear’s desk then runs a hand through her hair.

“Okay, so what’s this serial number? How do I get it? Carolyn made it seem like it wouldn’t be that hard.”

She grabs a handful of Cap’n Crunch.

“Well, I don’t think it’ll be too easy,” Bear says.

Jamie tramps out of his office, “Uh, sorry about all that.”

“Ex won’t let you see your kid?” Eve guesses.

“Something like that.”

He takes a seat in the chair next to Eve and lets out a long sigh. Eve and Bear stare at him for a moment, worried looks on their faces.

Eve turns back to Bear, “So the serial number?” 

“Er, right.”

Bear grabs the burner phone from his desk.

“The serial number is on the SIM card inside the phone.”

He opens a small compartment on the side of the phone and pops out the SIM card. He sets it on his desk.

Eve squints at it, “Jesus, it’s small.”

Jamie rubs his eyes then puts his glasses on.

“Show her the thing, but do the quick version,” he says tiredly.

Bear clicks away enthusiastically. Eve glances at the map.

“This is the map without the serial number.”

The dots jump around and the lines of code blink.

“What the hell?”

Eve leans forward, eating the cereal one piece at a time.

“This is with it.”

Bear types. The dots freeze where they were before.

Eve tries to grapple with what just happened.

“Do it again.”

Jamie rubs his forehead.

“Without.” Bear clicks; the dots jump. “With.” The dots freeze again.

Eve's eyes widen, mesmerized, “God that is so cool. Why does it do that?”

“The serial number establishes a connection between device identifiers and the coordinates,” Bear explains.

“So why do you need another?”

“To confirm that these locations are actually where the devices are,” Jamie answers.

“You mean they’re not?” Eve asks.

“Well they could be. But they could also not be,” Bear explains very explicitly.

Eve slumps back in her chair, “Oh.”

“That’s where the card comes in.”

Bear hands it to Eve.

“There are four series of numbers on it, only two make up the serial number.”

“Oh God,” Eve mutters, her shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, so it’s important you know which ones to get.”

She scrutinizes the card in her palm, “How do I tell them all apart?”

There are three rows of numbers in small font and a row beneath that’s smaller still.

“See how there’s a smaller line of numbers and letters at the bottom.”

Eve squints, “Yeah.”

“That’s one of them.”

“Okay.”

“Now this is the trickier part.”

Jamie gets up with a groan, “I need a drink. Eve?”

“I’m…fine. Thanks.”

Bear watches Jamie stagger to his office then glances over at Audrey who gives him a concerned frown back.

“Back to the tricky part,” Eve says impatiently.

“Uh, right. See how there’s a chunk of numbers, then a bunch of zeros, then another chuck.”

Eve squints harder, “Uhh, yes.”

“It’s the chunk before the zeros that matters.”

Eve nods, “Okay.”

“You have to get this right. If you don’t get the correct numbers, it’ll all be a waste. It won’t make any difference.”

“Yeah I get it,” Eve says impatiently.

“Do you want to try with the card from your phone?” he asks, completely serious.

She creases her brow at him, annoyed by his lack of faith, “No.”

Bear grabs the card and flips it over a few times even though the numbers are only on one side.

“Which ones then?” he asks.

Eve snatches up the SIM card, squinting at it trying to remember which numbers.

“Uhhh.” She points, “That one.” She squints harder, “And those.”

“Are you sure?” Bear asks skeptically.

“Yes,” Eve nods.

“Really?”

Eve looks back at the card, “Um.”

“Before the zeros, Eve!”

“Okay but that chunk has more numbers in it,” she replies, trying to defend her decision.

“Doesn’t matter. Before the zeros, always. Say it back.”

She rolls her eyes at him.

“Before the zeros,” she grumbles under her breath.

Bear shakes his head, “You’ll have to write it down.”

He grabs some Cap’n Crunch as Jamie returns with a paper cup full of dark liquor. He sits and takes a drink.

“Whose phone are you using then?” he asks.

Eve considers how to respond.

“I don’t know yet," she lies. "Carolyn still has to tell me.”

“Right,” Jamie nods then takes another sip.

“Couldn’t you just use Villanelle’s?" Bear asks. "Aren’t you two, like, you know?”

He awkwardly makes a scissoring gesture with his fingers.

“Oh my God.” Eve runs her hand through her hair, “When you’re as high up as her, they send someone to give you a message.”

\--------

**PRAGUE**  
Villanelle sits on a plush hotel bed wearing a black kimono featuring a yin-yang made of wolves, one howling at the moon, the other howling at the sun. Her hair is in a high messy bun. There’s a cardboard box for an Apple MacBook sitting on the bed next to her, the plastic covers and instructions strewn about. The thumb drive Hélène gave her sticks out of the side of the MacBook.

Her phone lights up on the bed, an incoming call from Eve. She lets it go.

“So needy, Eve.”

The laptop dings. Download complete.

Various files open all at once. Images, documents, videos, a spreadsheet.

“Whoa.”

Villanelle clicks around trying to make sense of everything. She exits out of a few windows and drags others out of the way until she comes across a video of Irina. She leans closer to the screen.

“This is a special operation,” she utters, a hint of intrigue in her voice.

Villanelle watches intently as Irina lures the orderly into the storage closet.

Then nothing happens.

She frowns and fast-forwards until Irina is stepping out of the closet in a new sweatsuit. The orderly does not exit.

“Irina,” she stresses her name, “you have been naughty.”

She closes the video and clicks around more, stopping on an image of a woman who looks a lot like her, except not nearly as beautiful, obviously. She starts scanning the attached document just as she hears the door open, someone noisily entering her hotel room. She glances around for a weapon. There’s a lamp with a sharp metal base on the bedside table.

Konstantin appears in the doorway of the bedroom.

Villanelle slams the laptop shut, “Why do you never knock?”

“What were you doing?” he asks suspiciously, his tone playful.

“Nothing. Watching Eve,” she lies easily.

“Watching?”

“Hidden cameras. I miss her,” Villanelle pouts.

Konstantin laughs then takes a step into the bedroom.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here with that lamp,” she growls.

He raises his eyebrows. “A lamp?” he laughs, then his tone switches to serious. “I have something for you.”

Konstantin walks into the bedroom and tosses a passport on the bed. Villanelle examines it closely.

“Have you made a decision?” he asks, watching her closely as she flips through the pages of the passport.

“Not yet,” she says with a shrug, unconcerned.

“Villanelle, please. I need-“

“I didn’t say no,” she raises her eyebrows and juts her chin at him.

He nods, then pulls a postcard out of his coat.

Villanelle groans, “Another already?”

“It is good to have you back they say.”

He tosses a stack of cash on the bed. Villanelle scowls at it looking very displeased.

“What? You don’t like money anymore?”

Villanelle takes it.

“I don’t like this,” she points back and forth with the stack of bills, “anymore.”

Konstantin laughs, “You have to play their game, Villanelle. You are very good at it by now.”

“There is no way to win this game. And I don’t like losing.”

Konstantin’s lips form a thin smile, “I know. But what are we supposed to do? We have to play, just a little bit longer.”

Villanelle flips the postcard over.

Brussels.

“A German BND agent, on his way to London. Don’t let him get that far.”

Villanelle scoffs and rolls her head to the side dramatically.

\--------

Eve sits on a crowded train. A man wearing a dingy sweatshirt takes the seat next to her, sitting a little too close. She pulls her bag in and gives him serious side-eye then scoots away, cramming herself as close to the window as possible. She opens her purse, smiling a little thinking of how happy Villanelle was when she chose this particular bag for her. A pang hits her heart. She looks out the window at the grey sky.

She misses Villanelle, and is surprised by just how much.

She goes to slip her phone out of a pocket in her purse but her fingers graze against something else. She frowns, not remembering what she put in there. She opens the small inner pocket.

Her wedding ring.

Niko.

The last part of her old life that makes her feel a sliver of guilt, a sliver that fades more and more each day, but looking at the ring, it’s hard not to let the memories flow in.

[Mama – Unloved]

Eve sighs heavily. She can’t bring herself to do anything with the ring. She just stares at it somberly.

The man next to her leans back, trying to get a view of what’s in her purse. She scowls at him, bothered by his leering. She zips up the pocket and takes out her phone then scrolls through the contacts until she hits Niko.

Maybe he blocked her? Or got a new number? Would he even pick up?

She takes a steadying breath, then hits call. It rings. She starts to panic.

Eve looks frantically out the window.

“Hello?” a man answers.

It’s Maciek, Niko’s father.

Eve’s heart drops. She can’t speak.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Maciek asks.

Eve finds her voice. It’s a painful British accent.

“Uh, yes. Hello.”

What is she even doing right now?

“My name is…”

She looks around crazily for something, anything. The man next to her has a JanSport backpack by his feet.

“Jan. Sport-ing-ton,” she gets out awkwardly.

The man looks at her like she’s insane. She turns away.

“I’m with…St Pancras Hospital.” She gets a story going. “I’m a nurse’s assistant and I follow up on all my patients after a few months or so to see how they’re doing. So, I wanted to check, how is Niko Polastri?”

Maciek is silent.

“It’s a routine call,” she blurts nervously. “Is he recovering well?”

Maciek responds, cautiously.

“He’s, yes, recovering. He’s regained some mobility back in his upper body, and has been doing well in speech therapy. He can make basic sounds now, but they’re low and very raspy. It’s been…challenging for him, to say the least. Sorry, but shouldn’t you have all this in his records?”

“Uh yes, that is why I’m calling,” her accent slips a little, “to update his record.”

Maciek doesn’t respond.

“So, he seems…he’s doing…well?”

“Well the man suffered a serious traumatic injury. How well can you really be doing only a few months after that?”

Eve’s shoulders droop and she sinks in her seat.

“Right,” she mutters.

“What did you say your name was? I thought we’d met all the nursing staff by now.”

“Uhh…” Eve can’t remember the name she just gave. “Excuse me, I need to go," she blurts. "There’s been an emergency. Something happening with a patient down the hall. I’m coming!” she yells, as if that will make it more believable.

She hurriedly ends the call.

What did she just do?

The man seated next to her stares at her thinking she must be having some sort of episode. Eve looks over at him with sharp, dark eyes. He scoots more towards the aisle, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor.

Eve sighs and rests her head in her hands. She grips her hair and tenses her body, inhaling a deep breath, then exhales and releases. She lifts her head up abruptly.

She takes another slow and steady breath then unlocks her phone and opens a message from Carolyn that contains a link to a tracking program.

She locates Konstantin.

\-------- [Bonnie & Clyde – Die Toten Hosen]

**BRUSSELS**  
Villanelle pushes a janitor cart through a busy train station. She's wearing a dark grey jumpsuit with the name Ortrud sewn on the front. Her hair is short, tucked under a ball cap. Dietrich Voigt, her target, wears a navy-blue Armani suit and carries a brown leather briefcase.

He heads towards the bathroom.

Villanelle makes her way over staying against the wall. She sets up a “Closed for Cleaning” sign outside the men’s bathroom door then pushes the cart inside, locking the door behind her.

Dietrich stands in front of the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

They speak in German.

“Hey, this is the men’s room,” he scowls.

“It’s closed for cleaning.”

“I’m already in here, work around me.”

Villanelle nods and pulls a broom out of the cart, seemingly about to go to work. She swings it and smacks him hard on the back of the knees causing him to fall to the ground.

“What the fuck is your problem!” he yells, rubbing the back of his knee.

He tries to get up but she hits him harder across the shoulders. He yelps.

“What are you doing? What is this?” he demands, fear in his eyes.

She tosses the broom and hauls him up off the ground. He grabs his briefcase as he staggers to his feet and hits her across the face with it. She bangs into the sink. She growls and snatches the broom up off the floor and swings it at him aiming for his head but he blocks it with the briefcase.

He was not supposed to fight back.

Villanelle strikes him in the side of the knee hard with the handle causing him to bend awkwardly, then she hits him again in the neck.

He drops to the ground.

She kicks the briefcase away from him then grips his tie and drags him up to his feet then pushes him stumbling backwards into the large stall at the end. She shoves him to the ground with force and crashes against the toilet.

“I am just trying to do my job!” she shouts at him.

He realizes she’s not a janitor.

“Who, who are you?” he asks, fear all over his face.

She points to her name tag, “Ortrud.”

“Wh- what do you want?”

“To get this over with," Villanelle nods, "so I can go home, and call my girlfriend.”

Fear mixes with confusion in his eyes then he registers something.

“Oh God, did Vitaly send you? I told Avit I’d get it all moved. I just needed another week,” he sputters in panic.

“What are you talking about?”

“The kilos of ice. Avit knows I’m good for it. I gave him my word!”

Villanelle shrugs and shakes her head, “No.”

“What?”

“I don’t know Vitaly or Avit.”

“Then why are you here?” he frowns, his voice breaks.

“To kill you,” Villanelle nods.

“What? Why?" he worries. "Please, I’ll do anything you want!”

“Anything?” Villanelle raises her brow.

He pulls a small switchblade from his suit jacket and hurls it at her missing by nearly a foot. It bounces off the bathroom stall door.

Villanelle gives him a impatient look, “Really?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he cowers. "Please, don’t kill me. I can get you money, drugs, women, whatever you want. Please!”

Villanelle rolls her eyes and pulls a pistol out of the large front pocket of her jumpsuit.

“No!”

She fires two silenced shots; his body slumps against the toilet, his eyes empty. Blood seeps into his white dress shirt. Villanelle scoffs then re-pockets the pistol. She closes the stall door and sets the “Caution Wet Floor” sign in front of the stall.

Blood starts to pool on the floor around him.

\--------

**ROUEN, FRANCE**  
Carolyn glides through the doors into an intimate dining room. She’s wearing a dark cyan coat, the design of her scarf has a hint of orange in it. The floors of the dining room are white marble and the walls are made of deep brown wood. Ornate crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling. The tables are set with ivory table cloths and sparkling silverware, but no one sits at them.

There’s only one woman in the room.

[No Friend of Mine – Unloved]

The woman stands. She's wearing an asymmetrical overcoat that is a shade caught between ecru and pastel pink. Her boots give her an inch at least over Carolyn

“Carolyn,” she grins.

Carolyn beams, “Adalene.”

They exchange a kiss on each cheek. Their table has three place settings.

Carolyn gives her French a try, “It’s been quite some time.”

Adalene smiles appreciatively, “In person, yes. Ten years maybe?”

“Thirteen at least, since the termination of Operation Carrington.”

“Ah, yes,” Adalene thinks back. She sighs, “Shall we jump right into it then?”

“You’ve ordered a bottle of Armand de Brignac?”

“As customary,” Adalene smiles.

She deftly pours Carolyn a glass.

“I did not want anyone else in here while we discussed such delicate information.”

She sets the glass in front of Carolyn. Their stares linger.

She smiles and pours herself a glass, “My protégé will be here shortly. I wanted us to have a moment together first.”

“You vamp,” Carolyn teases boldly.

Adalene simpers at Carolyn as she sits down. She holds up her glass for a toast.

“I cannot believe that we are finally here.”

They clink.

“There were days where I thought surely we’d never make it,” Carolyn grins.

They both drink, pleased by the quality of the champagne. Carolyn reaches down into her bag and pulls out a soft leather binder. She pushes it across the table.

“To think it just fell into my lap.”

“Years of meticulously orchestrated operations will ensure that,” Adalene gives her a conspiratorial smile.

Carolyn shrugs coolly then takes a drink. Adalene doesn’t open the binder, just slips it into her own bag.

“There’s certainly more to come. Think of that as…hors d'oeuvres,” Carolyn smirks.

“I will indulge myself later tonight.”

“By all means do.”

They both sip, eyes locked over champagne flutes.

“How is she?” Adalene asks curiously.

“Of a mind.” Carolyn sips, “The end is nigh, Adalene.”

Adalene laughs sweetly, “I almost do not wish it to be over.”

The doors of the dining room open and Marion strides in with poise. The heels of her tall boots click on the marble. She’s wearing all black.

She arrives at the table and takes the champagne bottle, gracefully pouring herself a glass.

“I hope I am not late,” she says, flashing a polite smile at Adalene then Carolyn.

She sits and crosses her legs.

“No, you are perfectly on time,” Adalene answers.

Marion extends her hand towards Carolyn, “Margaux Robillard. Intelligence agent with the DGSE.”

“Carolyn Martens.”

They shake firmly.

“I trust you have not been followed,” Adalene inquires.

“You know I am vigilant like a nighthawk,” Margaux smirks then sips.

“Nighthawks are often bested by kestrels,” Carolyn retorts in English.

Margaux smiles but the corner of her upper lip twitches.

Adalene pulls a black file folder out of her bag.

They switch to speaking in English.

“We have made great strides on the diplomatic affairs operation,” Adalene states confidently.

“Calling on our British allies now I see?” Margaux smiles pleasantly at Carolyn, trying to cover her haughty tone. 

Adalene sets the folder in front of Margaux.

“There have been a series of attacks, as you know. We are focused on those with serious political implications. Assassinations of political activists, government dignitaries, security officers, intelligence agents.”

Margaux opens the folder.

“The latest is the suicide of a senior MI6 agent,” Carolyn states plainly.

Margaux scrutinizes the images taken by the MI6 clean-up crew.

“That does not look like a suicide.”

She glances at Adalene quizzically then slides her eyes to Carolyn who looks at her with a frigidness. She flips through the rest of the documents.

Paul Bradwell: MI6 agent, suicide by gunshot, London

Mo Jafari: MI6 agent, drowned, London

Dumitru Moldovon: Romanian politician, electrocuted by salon hair dryer, Romania

Isabel Fernandez: Spanish political agitator, brainstem severed by tuning fork, Andalusia

Naimi Järve: Estonian foreign affairs specialist, sniped outside restaurant, Russia 

Pilar Muñoz: Spanish political agitator, bludgeoned with spice jar, Girona 

Aaron Peel: inheritor of British cyber warfare technology, throat slit, Rome

Greg Richardson: influential British entrepreneur, broken neck from tie caught in elevator, London

Alister Peel: owner of British cyber warfare technology, heart attack, London

Frank Haleton: MI5 officer, excessive bleeding due to loss of appendage, Newbury

Lucija Ćorić: Croatian ambassador, poisoned by ricin, Serbia

Zhang Wu: Chinese colonel, heart attack during unconventional medical procedure, Berlin

Giacinto Trevisani: Italian brigadier, car explosion, Lisbon

Filip Petrova: Russian cyber intelligence analyst, shot twice in the chest, Bulgaria

Victor Kedrin: high profile Russian politician, sliced femoral artery, Vienna

Susa Maron: Hungarian diplomat, hung in a ladies’ toilet, Japan

“Impressive assortment,” Margaux concludes, then shuts the folder.

“Yes. That was gathered over many months, years in fact,” Carolyn remarks.

“We want to know the lasting ramifications of these attacks," Adalene states. "Are they aimed at starting insurgencies, destabilizing government infrastructures, weakening the integrity of esteemed leaders?”

“We have the hopes of soon being able to make informed predictions for which individuals or groups may be targeted next,” Carolyn follows up.

“That is not an easy job,” Margaux responds.

“It will work to your advantage then that you have made contact with an impressive number and variety of people,” Adalene retorts with a raised brow.

“That must not have been an easy job,” Carolyn resounds.

“You are resourceful Margaux, I have seen you in action, that is why you are sitting here. I have known you to be clever, decisive, unrestrained when you need to be. Rise to the occasion.”

She glances at them each, their looks telling her it’s time to go. She taps a finger on the folder.

“You can keep that,” Carolyn assures her.

“Thank you for the champagne. It is a shame I cannot stay to finish it.” She turns to Carolyn, “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Martens.” She stands. “We will be in touch?” she asks Adalene.

“Do not come to me." Adalene gives her a look. "I will reach out to you.”

\-------- [I Could Tell You But I’d Have to Kill – Unloved]

Eve wanders down a cobblestone street at dusk. She glances down at her phone. Her blue dot is near the green dot that is Konstantin. She looks up at the buildings in front of her. It’s either the bakery or the hotel. She decides on the hotel and steps inside.

Much to her surprise, the map on her phone updates to a detailed layout of the hotel. She squints trying to read it.

“Are you lost?” the receptionist asks in Dutch.

Eve looks up at her not understanding a single word of what she just said.

“Lost?” the receptionist tries in English.

Eve looks terribly confused, “No.”

She starts up the staircase to her left, unable to tell which floor the green dot is on. She climbs another flight, then another.

It looks like it could be this floor.

She swivels trying to determine which direction to go.

Left.

The blue dot moves farther from the green dot.

Right.

Eve treads deliberately down the hall, the green dot in the room at the end. Her body starts to quiver, she’s two rooms away.

It suddenly occurs to her that she has no plan.

Her heart starts beating faster. She stops before the door, the dots separated by only one wall. She takes a breath and knocks.

Villanelle swings the door open beaming with delight, her hair in a bun half-up half-down.

Eve face falls, “What?!”

Villanelle’s smile twists into a confused and insulted look. Eve pushes past her to find Konstantin sitting on the couch looking dumbfounded.

She turns to Villanelle, “You’ve been with him?”

“What? No, he just got here.”

Eve runs a hand through her curls.

“Oh my God. What am I-, oh my God,” she frets.

“Eve, don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be mad?" Eve glares. "I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days!”

“I’ve been working,” Villanelle deflects.

“Working?” Eve scoffs.

“Someone has to earn the money,” Villanelle shrugs.

“You already have enough money!”

“You spent all of it last week!” Villanelle yells, her voice getting louder with each word.

“Oh my God! Are you fucking serious?” Eve fumes.

Konstantin stands, “I think I am going to leave now.”

“No! Sit down!” Eve commands, her eyes dark and fierce.

Konstantin puts up his hands, conceding, “Okay. I sit.”

“Eve?” Villanelle asks, intrigue in her voice.

Eve flicks her eyes at Villanelle whose own seem to darken in that moment. They stare at each other, unmoving. Villanelle realizes Eve didn’t come for her; she has an ulterior motive. She stalks closer to Eve trying to figure it out, eying her curiously, searching her for clues. Konstantin watches from the couch, unnerved by the situation. Eve stares at Villanelle blankly, her thoughts moving rapidly, trying to come up with a plan on the spot.

Villanelle slinks closer.

Eve’s eyes dart to the heavy golden vase on the table next to the couch. In a flash she has it in her hands and smashes it into the back of Konstantin’s head. He howls and clutches his head then topples over on the couch.

“What are you doing?” Villanelle shouts.

“I don’t know!”

Eve throws the vase to the side; it clatters to the ground. She gauges Konstantin’s level of consciousness. He’s knocked out but still breathing. Blood starts to trickle from the gash on his head.

She rifles through his coat pockets frantically.

Villanelle strides around the couch.

“What is happening?” she demands, eyes jumping all over Eve as she tries to calculate.

Eve continues to search for Konstantin's phone. It’s not in his coat pockets.

She searches the inner pockets.

Not there.

She searches one pant pocket.

Not there.

She searches the other.

Finally

She pulls it out.

“Eve?” Villanelle asks, unable to read her.

“I need a pen and a piece of paper,” Eve instructs.

“What?”

“A pen and paper!” Eve yells.

Villanelle jumps at her stern tone and flies to the bedroom to find the items.

Eve steadies her trembling hands searching desperately for the compartment on the side of the phone.

“Come on, come on, come on.”

Konstantin groans on the couch.

“Oh my God.”

Adrenaline courses through Eve's body, a full-on panic setting in. Her shaky fingers work open the compartment. She pops out the SIM card.

“Villanelle!” she looks up wildly.

Villanelle stands at her side, holding out the pen and paper. She scrunches her brow at Eve in bemusement.

Eve sets the SIM card on the table then snatches the items from Villanelle. She crouches down squinting at the card, trying to determine the correct numbers.

“Letters and zeros, letters and zeros,” she mutters repeatedly under her breath as she scribbles ferociously.

Villanelle watches her inquisitively, fascinated by this rogue side of her.

Eve pauses her writing, “Oh no.” She stares at the SIM card trying to remember. “Oh God,” she mutters, dread in her voice.

She pushes her hair back and scribbles faster than before as Konstantin stirs dazedly on the couch. Villanelle smacks him with a heavy pillow. He goes still again.

“Okay, okay. I got it,” Eve stands and shoves the paper in her pocket.

Villanelle doesn’t interfere.

Eve forces her shaky fingers to steady so she can slide the SIM card back into the phone. Konstantin groans again. Villanelle raises the pillow.

“No wait!" Eve shouts, stopping her. "I just need to put this back.”

Eve slips Konstantin’s phone back into his pants pocket, he grunts still in a stupor. She steps away and takes a breath, feeling the thrill.

“Okay,” she sighs out.

Villanelle tosses the pillow onto a chair.

“What was that all about?”

Konstantin grunts and puts his hand on the gash.

“Oh Jesus,” Eve mutters, her shoulders slumping.

She glances at Konstantin just now considering the damage she’s caused. Villanelle strides over to him and lifts up his limp body, leaning him against the couch.

“Hey,” she says, repeatedly patting his cheek, a little harder with each hit.

She grabs his face with both hands then tips his head, assessing the gash. It looks bad but the blood is already clotting. She grips him by the chin with one hand and leans in close, waiting for him to open his eyes.

Konstantin winces and pries his eyes open, blinking heavily, trying to bring the room back in focus.

He groans and clutches his head, “Aye.”

Villanelle lets go of his chin, “He’s fine.”

She turns to Eve who stands with a hand on her head, eyes big but not looking at anything in particular.

Villanelle gently takes her arm, “Hey.”

Eve focuses on Villanelle’s comforting face.

“You hit him hard,” she jokes, “but he will survive.”

Eve’s body drops, relaxing some. She falls into a chair.

“Mm. We should probably go before he wakes all the way up. This will be difficult to explain.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

Eve gets back up. They both stare at him.

“Can we just leave him here?” Eve asks.

Villanelle shrugs and nods.

[Far from Here – Unloved]

Eve and Villanelle walk arm in arm down the street, hands in their pockets. Snow falls gently around them, the flakes sticking to their hair. The street lights cast soft shadows in the darkness.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Villanelle asks, peering out the corner of her eye at Eve.

Eve looks around nervously, eyes darting to all the dark areas.

Villanelle pulls her closer, “It’s okay. We are not being followed.”

Eve looks over at her and sighs, “I had to get a serial number for a map.”

“A map?”

“Of The Twelve.”

“There’s a map of The Twelve?” Villanelle asks, interested in this.

“No. Well, kind of.”

Villanelle looks over at Eve, eyebrows raised with a curious grin.

Eve lets out a frustrated sigh, “It’s hard to explain. If you would have just come to the meeting, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

Villanelle doesn’t bite. They keep strolling.

“Wow. All that for a little number?” she glances at Eve.

Eve chuckles, “Yeah. You know I'm not great in high-pressure situations.”

Villanelle lets out a laugh, “That was not bad. A little messy, but, it worked.”

She gives Eve a lopsided grin.

“Why were you with him?” Eve asks candidly.

Villanelle hesitates before answering, taking a few steps before giving a response.

“Irina,” she says flatly.

Eve stops walking and looks at her, eyes tracing the edges of her profile.

“Really? You’re doing it?”

“Hélène is sending me,” Villanelle states then starts walking, pulling Eve along.

“You’re working again.”

It’s a statement not a question.

Villanelle shrugs smally, “I have to.”

Eve creases her brow, “Why?”

“So they don’t get suspicious,” Villanelle says, giving Eve a weak grin.

Eve pauses to think, staring down at the ground, then she keeps walking. Their feet crunch on the snowy sidewalk. She stops again and looks at Villanelle with sincere eyes, studying her face.

“Are you okay?” she asks calmly, earnestly.

Villanelle was not expecting that question. The heaviness of her kills hits her. Tears hover as her eyes become distant.

“It’s different now," she sighs. "I don’t want to keep doing it, but, we have a way out, so…”

The tears well up in Villanelle's eyes. She sniffs trying to stop them.

It hurts Eve to see her like this.

She reaches up and caresses Villanelle’s face, stroking her thumb gently across her cheek, rosy and cold from the frosty air. Villanelle closes her eyes and leans into Eve, taking an unsteady breath.

“It’ll be over soon,” Eve tells her.

Villanelle stifles her tears and nods.

“You won’t have to do it forever.”

Villanelle opens teary eyes.

“I promise,” Eve reassures her.

Villanelle sighs expressively, “Okay. But before we go any further, there’s something you should know.”

Eve gazes at her earnestly.

Villanelle sighs again, trying to find the words. This will be hard to say.

“I got married,” she cringes.

Eve creases her brow, baffled, “You what?”

“After Rome, to a Spanish woman.”

Eve chuckles in disbelief, “What?”

“Se llama Maria,” Villanelle exhales, relieved she got it all out.

Eve's jaw drops. All she can do is laugh, blown away by Villanelle's sudden confession. Villanelle shakes her head and smiles, not understanding Eve’s reaction.

She laughs harder and throws up her hands, “Well, I’m married to a man, so.”

Villanelle chuckles with her, their warm breath creating clouds of vapor in the cold night, caught in the glow of the street lamps. They stare at each other, unable to contain their smiles, then Villanelle takes Eve gently by the face and kisses her.

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing it up with a tender ending
> 
> The stiletto to the throat was inspired by Atomic Blonde
> 
> Thank you Google for helping me pretend to be worldly
> 
> Feedback is always welcome! (Please let me know if there are any glaring mistakes)


	4. Safety Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolyn and Eve press on with the operation against The Twelve while Hélène sends Villanelle on a mission to Moscow then gives her another job before she can return back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkness abounds
> 
> This is the longest one yet and I think they’re only going to get longer but that means more Villaneve scenes!
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Eyes – Unloved  
> Boy and Girl – Unloved  
> Sombre – Unloved  
> If - Unloved  
> Heartbreak - Unloved  
> Calor – Conchita Velasco  
> Gnossienne No. 1 – Erik Satie  
> One Way or Another – Blondie  
> Strange Effect – Unloved  
> Remember – Unloved  
> Cry Baby Cry – Unloved  
> Xpectations – Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: Safety Off](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0yp0dgAOENz7A3MBYMRDVO)

**MOSCOW**  
[Eyes – Unloved]  
Villanelle rides in the backseat of a black Mercedes-Benz G Class. She wears a dark green uniform and her hair is pulled into a bun. Her eyes are blue, or as blue as they can be given that the contacts can’t entirely transform her dark brown eyes.

It’s early morning, close to twilight. Two men with buzzed haircuts and stocky builds sit in the front seats. The man behind the wheel drives fast and steers with precision as if he’s driven the route before.

Villanelle yawns in the back. She’s never enjoyed working early in the morning.

The man in the passenger seat throws a badge at her. “Wake up!”

She clips the badge onto her uniform. "What? I am not allowed to yawn?” 

“You have sixteen minutes to get in and bring her out. If you are late, you will miss the pick-up, and we will not send someone else.”

“Yeah. I know.” Villanelle nods, irked. This isn't her first multipart operation.

“If you get made, or either of you get caught, there will be no rescue. The girl will stay, and we will send someone to terminate you.”

“Terminate?” she mocks, eyes wide.

The men exchange vexed glances. The driver takes a sharp turn throwing Villanelle around in the back.

The man in the passenger seat continues, “If you miss the extraction point-”

“We will not send someone to get you,” Villanelle mimics his deep voice.

The driver glances at her in the rearview mirror. “If any of it does not go according to plan, you will die.”

Villanelle rolls her eyes.

The car speeds up on a group of buildings. The driver turns into a dimly lit parking lot.

A white Hyundai Solaris turns in on the other side of the lot.

“Start your watch as soon as you get inside,” the driver instructs.

“If you are late, you will die, and no one will collect your body.”

Villanelle scoffs then gets out of the car. She puts on a ball cap and briskly walks towards the Hyundai parked five spots away, slipping a snare wire out of her pocket. A woman sits in the car checking her face in the visor mirror, the small light giving off a soft glow. This is the woman who resembles Villanelle, barring the charm and beauty of course.

When she’s a few steps away from the car, Villanelle clicks a car door opener in her pocket, unlocking all the doors. The woman jumps and glances around nervously. Villanelle slides into the back seat and loops the snare around the woman's neck. She thrashes about wildly as she tears at it, trying to get her fingers underneath it to pull it away. Villanelle grips it tighter and leans back in her seat, putting all her weight behind it.

The woman gasps and gags, and frantically claws, but Villanelle knows her time is nearly out, watching the woman’s eyes widen in her reflection in the windshield. She pulls the snare tighter to finish part one of the job. The woman gives a last-ditch effort, squirming and grasping at her neck, then she stills. Her body slumps forward, lifeless.

Villanelle releases the snare. “Goodbye, Yevgenia.”

She slips the wire back in her pocket and puts her hat on Yevgenia’s head, then she gets out of the car and treads towards the front of the building.

The Mercedes pulls up next to the Hyundai. The man in the passenger seat throws open his door before the car even comes to a stop. He hauls Yevgenia out of the driver’s seat and loads her into the back then gets behind the wheel and both cars speed away.

Villanelle starts her watch then scans her badge, unlocking the front door of the detention center. She strides down the empty corridors, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. She reaches a second door and badges through to the lobby.

A woman sitting behind a small desk greets Villanelle in Russian.

“Good morning, Yevgenia.”

“Good morning,” Villanelle responds in Russian with a smile, her timbre higher than usual.

The woman smiles and returns to clicking on her computer. The smile falls from her face as she looks down the hall just as Villanelle turns the corner.

Villanelle checks her watch and continues to the staff break room.

Two minutes ahead of schedule.

A man comes in after her. She pours herself a cup of burnt coffee, keeping her head down.

They exchange in Russian.

“Another Monday, huh?” He hangs his backpack in a locker.

Villanelle doesn’t reply. She adds a packet of sugar.

“How was your weekend?” he tries.

Villanelle can tell by his tone that he’s tried to pursue Yevgenia before. She smiles to herself knowing she’s ruined that for him.

“I drank too much,” she responds evenly, adding another sugar to keep her gaze focused on the coffee on the counter.

“Like any other weekend then?” he grins.

Villanelle feigns a pleasant laugh then picks up the cup and heads for the door.

“Have a good day,” he calls after too eagerly. He sighs and kicks the locker.

Villanelle tosses the coffee in a trashcan on her way to the patient rooms. She checks the time then badges into the corridor.

Still ahead of schedule.

She discreetly turns her face away from the cameras as she walks down the hall, counting the doors until she reaches Irina's. She opens the door, squinting to see in the dark.

She kicks the side of the bed and rips off the covers. “Time to go,” she announces cheerily in English.

Irina stirs and groans.

Villanelle notices a stuffed animal in the bed. “Is that a teddy bear?”

Irina rubs her eyes. “Shut up, I’m fourteen.”

She doesn't move out of bed.

“Get up,” Villanelle orders impatiently. "Now."

Irina sits up and yawns, “You are the worst person to wake up to.”

“Mm, I have been told the opposite by many people.”

Irina rolls her eyes and gets out of bed.

“Shoes and sweater, that is all. We only have,” Villanelle checks her watch, “nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

“That is so particular.” Irina slips on her trainers.

Villanelle hovers behind her, “Do you want to see what happens if we are late?”

“Your over-the-top dramatics are not going to scare me.”

Villanelle taps her foot, arms crossed.

“Just put on your sweater. I don’t want to have to listen to you complain about being cold later.”

Irina slips on her sweatshirt and yawns again.

“Try not to make it obvious that we are leaving. Follow me, but don’t walk behind me.”

“How can I follow you if I’m not walking behind you?” Irina ridicules.

Villanelle narrows her eyes at her, “Why are you so annoying?”

She turns for the door but Irina hesitates, gazing around the room. Her eyes land on the teddy bear.

“What are you doing? Do you want me to leave you here?”

Irina pulls herself away, leaving the bear behind.

They walk casually but quickly down the corridors, Irina doing her best to stay at Villanelle’s side. She leads the way to the infirmary.

A nurse looks up from her computer. She and Villanelle speak in Russian.

“Good morning. Is everything okay? Is she sick?” the nurse asks, already suspicious.

Villanelle fakes compassion. “She had another accident.”

The nurse eyes Irina who looks down at her shoes, biting her tongue.

“It’s been happening a lot lately. She’s fourteen, it’s not normal. She needs to see the doctor.”

The nurse narrows her eyes at the duo then types on her keyboard.

“I’ll...let him know you are here. You can go and wait.”

Villanelle flashes an exaggerated grin and drags Irina along.

“That was your plan?” Irina criticizes as soon as they are around the corner.

“It worked didn’t it? It’s believable.” Villanelle smirks, “Walk faster.”

“I am like five inches shorter than you.”

“I don’t care.”

Villanelle leads her down the last corridor to an emergency exit. She stops and waits, counting down the seconds until…

The door unlocks, disarming the alarm.

They slip out the exit.

Their breath shows in the freezing morning air. Irina jams her hands in her pockets.

“I knew you would be cold.”

“Of course I am cold, it is below freezing out here!”

They walk through a smaller parking lot behind the building. Villanelle jogs across the street.

“Move your short little legs faster!”

“Piss off!” Irina has to almost run to keep up.

Villanelle checks her watch again as they make their way down an alley between two tall buildings. Finally, she stops walking. They stand in the darkest corner of the parking lot on the backside of the structures.

“This is it?” Irina looks around at the vacant parking lot.

“I gave us extra time on the way out because I knew you would be annoying and slow.”

Irina’s entire body shudders from the icy air. She takes a step closer to Villanelle, brushing up against her.

“Uh, get away from me.”

“I’m cold. Do you want me to die out here?”

Villanelle shakes her head, hassled, “Do jumping jacks or something.”

Irina takes another step closer, bumping up against Villanelle’s side. Villanelle flinches, but she doesn’t move. She stands there awkwardly stiff.

Two cars pull into the parking lot, one a grey Lada Niva and the other a white Hyundai Solaris, identical to Yevgenia’s car. It could be the same car for all Villanelle knows. The man behind the wheel of the Hyundai gets out.

“You made it,” he spits in Russian.

Villanelle looks him up and down. He's at least two inches shorter than her.

“You are so short,” she derides.

He scowls and slams the car door. Villanelle scoffs and pulls it back open. Irina goes for the passenger door.

“Mm no, backseat.”

“Seriously? I am not a child.”

“Uh yes, you are. Get in the back.”

Irina doesn’t move.

“There’s a change of clothes back there. And a jacket.”

Irina rolls her eyes and gets in the backseat. Villanelle slides into the driver’s seat and hits the gas, laughing hard as she jostles Irina around.

[Boy and Girl – Unloved]  
**KILLING EVE**

**LONDON**  
Eve bangs on Carolyn’s front door. Her curls are pulled back in a messy low bun and she’s wearing a parka, though at least it’s made by Valentino.

No one answers.

She barges into Carolyn’s house nearly smacking into Geraldine on the way in.

“Oh, Eve,” Geraldine gasps, clutching her chest.

Eve pushes past her. “Is Carolyn home?”

“Uh, yes. But if you were coming to meet with Helen, you just missed her.”

“Huh? No. Where’s Carolyn?”

Eve’s directness flusters Geraldine. “Um, upstairs.”

Eve treads up the stairs.

“She’s been on the phone for nearly an hour,” Geraldine calls after her, then she sighs heavily.

Eve arrives at Carolyn’s study to find her laughing heartily into the phone.

“It’s been nearly twenty years but you’ll never let me live that down.” She laughs. “Oh I’m sure. Munich will never be the same.”

She notices Eve.

“I’m terribly sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

There’s a muffled response.

“No of course not. I’ll call you back in five.”

Carolyn chuckles to herself as she sits on the couch.

“I’ve got to visit Russia, it’s been far too long. Being in that country just fills me with vigor and vivacity.”

Eve scrunches her brow. “I’m guessing that was Vlad?”

“God, he knows how to ignite me inside, all the way down to the bone.”

Eve gazes at Carolyn, a bothered look on her face. She waits for Carolyn to come down from this high.

“You only ever come here if you want something or you have something, so which is it this morning, Eve?”

Eve furrows her brow, this meeting already off to a rough start.

“I have something. The serial number you so kindly requested I get.”

“Ah. So you’re still interested after all?” Carolyn puts on her glasses.

Eve grudgingly pulls the crumpled slip of paper out of her pocket and hands it to Carolyn who examines it with narrowed eyes.

“Your handwriting is almost entirely illegible.”

Eve scoffs, “I got the job done okay, that’s all that matters.”

Carolyn hands the paper back, “The Bitter Pill will have the final word on that.”

Eve sighs and re-pockets the paper. She can’t catch a break with Carolyn.

Carolyn slides off her glasses.

“After I had finished my time in Tel Aviv, I was sent back for a secondary operation that involved spreading misinformed intelligence. Quite a complicated endeavor really, and the majority of the dealings had to be done at night. It was a very hot and humid summer that year. I’d just finished a late-night meeting with an Italian agent who’d become quite comfortable with a member of the KGB and was making my way back through town when I came across a Palestinian viper.” 

“Where are you going with this?”

“Vipers are incredibly poisonous, one bite without access to antivenom and medical treatment can be nearly fatal, not to mention unbearably painful.”

“Is there a point to this or are you telling this story just so you can hear it out loud?”

“Do you know how to kill a highly venomous snake, Eve?”

Eve shakes her head and shrugs. “Don’t step on it in the first place?”

“You cut off the head, all at once.”

Eve falls back into the couch, unraveling the meaning. Carolyn lets it sink in.

“So how'd you do it?" Eve shrugs. "How’d you kill it?”

“I did the only thing I could think of at the time which was not at all clever. I fired two quick shots only clipping it once, aggravating it terribly-“

“No wait, hold on. You had a gun?”

“Yes," Carolyn nods. "Different times.”

“Carolyn, was Paul not the-“

“This is where we are now, Eve. Your girlfriend is an assassin and I’m telling you that I’ve fired a gun, and not exclusively at snakes.”

Eve scoffs, “Girlfriend?”

“What is she to you then?”

Eve has no response to that.

“Tell me more about the snake.”

Carolyn lets out a contemplative sigh.

“Snakes are extraordinary creatures, cunning, agile, expert hunters. Once they manage to get their prey between their jaws there’s very little chance of survival.”

Eve follows Carolyn’s words, trying not to drift away into the thoughts swirling around her head.

“Killing a snake is…a sure way to eliminate future confrontations, but it can be a rather drawn-out process and is not entirely without risk itself. The head of a snake can still bite and inject venom long after it’s been severed from its body.”

Eve stares off to the side considering this.

“Quite remarkable, really,” Carolyn comments.

Geraldine runs upstairs with a huge grin on her face.

“I’ve made it to the second round of interviews for the crisis counselor job in Bristol!”

Carolyn remains indifferent. “How would you like me to respond to that?”

Geraldine slumps, the excitement falling away.

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, defeated. “I don’t know why I even bothered to tell you.”

“Nor do I. I don’t need to be updated on every frivolous detail of your life, Geraldine.”

Eve glances at Carolyn with raised brows.

“I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting," Geraldine laments, her tone a tad disrespectful. "Clearly this is all far more important than anything I could ever be doing.” 

Carolyn nods her head and shrugs as if to agree. Geraldine sighs and trudges back down the stairs, downhearted.

“Little harsh don’t you think?” Eve ventures.

“If and when that job doesn’t turn out, I’ve got an administrative position arranged at MI5. It’s always worthwhile to have a fallback.”

Carolyn’s phone rings on the coffee table. She checks it, smiling wide at the caller.

“Vlad. Already back for more.”

She stands.

“If you ever want to advance in this field, Eve, you must know how to do two things: shoot a gun, and seduce a colleague for information.” She answers the call with a grin, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait until I called you back.”

\--------

Villanelle speeds down backstreets to an abandoned industrial complex. She beams. It’s been a while since she got to drive a car fast, even if it is a shitty one.

Irina changes her clothes in the backseat, shivering as she does.

“Are you sure the heat is on?”

“Yes.” Villanelle glances at the dashboard. She covertly turns on the heat control.

“Hey!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to handle the cold. You are from Russia, how did you never learn?”

Irina starts to pull off her shirt. “Don’t look at me. I’m self-conscious.”

“I would be too if I had that hair.”

Villanelle laughs to herself, then peeks in the rearview for Irina’s reaction.

“I said don’t look!”

“Calm down.” Villanelle rolls her eyes. “It’s not like I am _looking_.”

She takes a turn too fast and tosses Irina to the side making herself laugh.

“You are seriously the worst,” Irina complains.

Villanelle throws the car in park in a vacant freight depot.

“Are you going to kill me?” Irina asks.

“What? No.”

Irina looks out the windows skeptically. “Is my dad coming to get me?”

Villanelle lets out a laugh, “No.”

“ _You’re_ going to Cuba?”

Villanelle scrunches her brow, confused as to how Irina could think Cuba is still the plan.

“All you do is complain and ask stupid questions, you know that?”

Two black motorcycle sport bikes rev down the road.

“Who are they?”

“Your ride. Get out.”

Villanelle climbs out of the car, Irina follows. The motorcycles slow and come to a stop next to them. Two women are on one, one woman drives the other. Villanelle grabs a helmet from the trunk of the car.

She shoves it into Irina's hands. “Put this on.”

She slips on a bomber jacket and grabs the other helmet.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” Irina mutters.

Villanelle shrugs, unsympathetic, “I don’t know, close your eyes.”

The rider climbs off the back of the motorcycle and slips off her helmet.

Villanelle smirks at her. “Warmed it up for you.”

The woman stares coldly at Villanelle then climbs into the car and speeds off.

Villanelle nods to the motorcycle, “Get on that one.”

Irina fumbles with the helmet strap, her fingers trembling.

Villanelle groans, “Get out of the way.” She bats away Irina’s hands and slips the strap through the loop, tightening it. She smacks the helmet. “Have fun!”

Irina gets on the back of the bike, swinging her leg around clumsily. She timidly grabs onto the driver then the motorcycle races away.

Villanelle chuckles. The woman on the other motorcycle slides up her visor.

Marion smirks at Villanelle.

Villanelle rolls her head and groans. “Noo, they didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Marion speaks French; Villanelle responds in English.

“No?” Marion plays dumb. She shrugs, “Minor oversight.”

Villanelle frowns, very unhappy by the thought of having to hold on to Marion for who knows how long.

“Don’t look so excited.”

Villanelle slides on her helmet and tightens the strap.

“Do you even know how to drive that through the city?”

“Are you saying you want to walk?”

Villanelle rolls her head side to side looking foolish in her large helmet. She slams down the visor and climbs on behind Marion, sighing heavily and grimacing as she wraps her arms around her, trying her best to keep some space between them.

Marion slides her visor down and speeds away.

\--------

**SMOLENSK, RUSSIA**  
[Sombre – Unloved]

Konstantin stands in front of an ATM in the backroom of a loud bar. He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, the one from the safety deposit box. He types the account number into the machine then enters a PIN number. He’s next prompted for an unusually long passcode. He refers to the slip of paper as he punches it in.  
Access granted. The screen gives him five options:  


Fast Cash  
Withdrawal  
Deposit  
Account Balance  
Transfer

He jams the paper back in his pocket and selects Account Balance, letting out a sigh as the machine loads.

Account Balance: €0

Konstantin’s heart drops.

He shakes his head, “No, no, no.”

He goes back to the previous screen and taps Account Balance again.

Account Balance: €0

“No!” He punches the machine then tries one more time. “Come on you stupid…”

Account Balance: €0

“Гавно!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, scrunching his brow in exasperation.

His phone rings. He glowers.

“Privet?” Hello?

“Konstantin.” Hélène’s voice sends a shiver down his spine. “I have just received some exciting news, I thought you might want to hear it.”

Konstantin’s heart beats harder. He swallows and grimaces.

“Irina has been successfully broken out of the detention center.”

His heart constricts making his breath labored and unsteady out his nose and mouth. He puts a hand up against the ATM to steady himself.

“Where is she?”

“Did you think Villanelle was going to bring her to you?” Hélène laughs, “I thought we had gotten past all that.”

Konstantin coughs. A blazing fire rips through his chest.

“Irina is on her way to me. She will get here, to Paris, tonight.”

Konstantin’s throat clamps shut, his mouth dry. He pants heavily into the phone as a thick fog rolls into his head.

“Do not worry, Konstantin, I made certain that she is in the very best of hands. I would have had Villanelle bring her all the way to me, but she will be busy with another job. She is too good at what she does to be occupied with a transport, don’t you think?”

All the color drains from Konstantin’s face. His vision blurs as black spots creep in on the periphery, his eyes absent and cloudy.

“It is a lot to comprehend I am sure, but I wanted to be the one to share it with you, to remind you of how serious I am. Do not ever think for a second that you are a step ahead of me, Konstantin. You will always be ten steps behind.”

Konstantin forces a sound out, “Please, she is-”

“If you continue to do what I ask, and you quit trying to make arrangements behind my back, I might let you see her. Or I might not. That will all depend on how well you do your job for me. If you make things difficult in any way, I guarantee that you will not see your daughter again. And if you do, you will not like what you see.”

Konstantin coughs and hacks, wheezing in air. The blood drains from his head as the fog fills its place. His body quakes and his knees start to buckle.

Hélène laughs, enjoying every second of this torture.

“She will continue her studies, continue learning languages while we decide where she will fit best for us. She has enormous potential, Konstantin. You should be proud.”

Konstantin’s chokes as his heart falters. He slumps against the ATM and slides down awkwardly, crumpling on the floor.

“And because I know you are wondering, the money was transferred back last week. Always ten steps behind. Take care of your heart.”

The line goes silent.

Konstantin gasps on the floor, pounding a fist on his chest. His face turns purple, his teary eyes huge and vacant. He tries with all his strength to take deep breaths to calm his heart but it feels like it only constricts tighter. He clutches his jacket as tears streak down his cheeks. He fights as hard as he can.

He has to stay alive for Irina. He refuses to let her be taken by The Twelve.

One of the bartenders walks into the backroom holding a box of empty liquor bottles.

“заебись!”

He drops the box breaking the bottles and runs to Konstantin.

There's little life left in Konstantin’s eyes. The bartender starts chest compressions.

“Privet! Pomogite!” Hey! Help!

\--------

**MOSCOW**  
The sport bike slows to a halt in a narrow back alley. Villanelle jumps off before Marion even brings it to a full stop. She rips off her helmet and looks around trying to figure out her surroundings.

Marion turns off the bike and dismounts. She slides her helmet off and shakes out her hair. Villanelle eyes the keys. Marion chuckles and tosses them at her.

“You can have them,” she says in French. Villanelle catches them with one hand. “But you don’t know where you are going next.”

Neither move, they stare at each other, sizing one another up.

Marion smirks then nods towards a fire escape, “Come on.”

Villanelle doesn’t budge. “Why should I go with you?” she asks in English.

“Because you have nowhere else to go.”

Villanelle considers her options and what’s available to use as a weapon.

“You know they say you should never go with someone to a second location.”

Marion laughs, “You think that really applies to people like me and you?” She prowls closer to Villanelle, “What? You don’t trust me, Villanelle?”

Villanelle’s body tenses. “I know not to trust anyone in this line of work.”

“But that is not true.”

[If – Unloved]

Marion stalks closer. Villanelle clenches her jaw.

“You trust Eve, no?”

Villanelle drops the helmet and keys and lurches forward, pinning Marion against the brick wall and pressing her forearm strongly against her throat. Marion huffs out a constrained laugh and tosses her helmet to the ground.

Villanelle glares at her harshly, her blue eyes vicious. Marion doesn’t struggle, she smirks, her inky eyes leering at Villanelle.

“You care so much for her," she rasps, laboring to get the words out. "It is endearing.”

Villanelle pushes harder into her throat. She grunts but continues not to fight back.

“And what about Carolyn, hm? You do not believe her words?”

Villanelle presses hard enough to fully constrict her breathing but she still smiles, her face red with tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. She suddenly kicks off the wall and shoves Villanelle off of her.

She coughs and rubs her throat. “You are not the only assassin working for two sides.”

Villanelle lunges at her but she dips out of the way, catching Villanelle and throwing her up against the wall. She grips Villanelle’s wrists, holding her arms out to her side.

She leans in close. Villanelle can smell her floral perfume.

“Neither of us are loyal exclusively to Hélène,” she smirks. Villanelle fights against Marion's grip, but she has an ounce more strength. “We both have allegiance to friendly intelligence agencies. I believe that makes us confrères, no?”

Marion laughs and bites her lower lip then releases Villanelle’s wrists.

“You don’t have to trust me, Villanelle. But if you and Eve want to see to the end of this insurrection, you have to work with me. Against them.”

She steps back and unzips her leather riding jacket, pulling out a postcard and flashing a smile at Villanelle.

“A counterintelligence analyst with Mossad.” She flips the card with her fingers. Andorra. “Try to have some fun with it,” she smiles haughtily.

Villanelle seizes it and scoffs, “You are too good for these kinds of jobs?” She jams the postcard in her jacket without looking at it.

Marion chuckles, “Of course not. That is what is waiting inside. I thought you might like to watch.”

Marion steps close to Villanelle, simpering as she leans in close. Their lips are inches apart. They can feel each other’s warm breath.

“It does not give you pleasure anymore? Villanelle.”

Villanelle grabs Marion by the throat and spins her, slamming her against the icy brick wall. She smirks but her eyes are empty as she squeezes her fingers around Marion’s throat. Her eyes dart down to Marion’s lips.

She speaks in French. “Okay. I will go inside with you.” She exhales a warm breath on Marion’s neck making her grimace and turn her head away. Villanelle drops her voice down to a whisper, “But I have a favor to ask you first.”

\-------- [Heartbreak – Unloved]

**LONDON**  
Carolyn strides like a force to be reckoned with through the Bitter Pill parking lot. Eve follows behind, steadfast. Carolyn heaves the door open but Eve pauses by the entrance and looks back across the parking lot thinking she forgot something. She rubs her wrist as if a watch were bothering her.

“Do you have someplace else you need to be?”

Eve creases her brow, “Huh?” She ponders, “Uh, no.”

Carolyn shrugs, “Let’s not waste time then.”

Eve and Carolyn pause once they walk into the Bitter Pill.

It’s a mess.

Cardboard boxes are stacked all around the office, the desks and filing cabinets have been moved out, and everything has been pulled off the walls leaving behind silhouettes and loads of tack holes. There’s no furniture remaining at all, just a lone office chair in the tiny kitchen.

The Bitter Pill sign leans against a box in the corner.

Jamie appears in the doorway of his office looking a bit disheveled.

“Can you get raided twice?” Eve jokes.

“Eviction notice. Can’t make rent if you’re not making any money.”

Eve changes her tone, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Do you still have computer access to the database?” Carolyn asks, uninterested in the current financial situation of the Bitter Pill.

“All you need is a power outlet for that. And we have electricity ‘til the end of the month,” Jamie grumbles.

He leans out of the doorway allowing Eve and Carolyn into his office. All that’s left is his desk, three chairs, and the screen for the projector which has the map of Europe illuminated on it.

Bear looks up from his laptop.

Eve sits in the chair next to him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea this place was actually being shut down.”

“It kind of, just happened?” he shrugs.

Eve slips out of her jacket, wearing a black velvety turtleneck underneath.

Jamie takes a seat at his desk and rubs his eyes, still somewhat drunk from last night’s bender.

Carolyn surveys the room.

“I realize you’ve been presented with some difficulty given the current state of your organization, but your team started with the initial inquiry and you have an obligation to finish it.”

“Carolyn,” Eve defends her Bitter Pill colleagues.

“They assumed responsibility when they agreed to look into the phone.”

“She’s right,” Jamie sighs. “This is the only thing we’ve got left to work on, might as well carry on with it then.”

“Did you have the numbers?” Bear asks Eve.

“Uh, yeah.”

She pulls the crumpled paper out of her bag and hands it to Bear with a proud grin." 

He smooths it out on his leg. “Eve, there are too many numbers here.”

“What?”

There are three lines of numbers on the paper. One line is in brackets, another line has a long dash in the middle and seems to wrap around to the line below, and the last line is indented.

Bear shows her the paper. “Which ones make up the actual serial number?”

“Oh. Uhh...” She puts up her hair. “I know the ones in brackets are definitely part of it.”

“Because of the letters,” he mumbles as he types.

“Try those,” Eve says, pointing to the indented line.

Bear types in the numbers and presses enter.

Nothing happens.

Eve stares at the map. “Try the ones before the dash?” she cringes.

Bear squints trying to read her writing. “Is that a 2 or a 7?”

Eve grabs the paper back.

“Two.”

Bear enters the number.

Nothing happens.

“Okay seven.”

Carolyn sighs impatiently while Jamie watches with woozy eyes.

Bear enters the number.

Something happens.

A number of dots disappear from the map. Everyone leans in.

Bear scratches his jaw, “That’s not what I was expecting.”

Jamie puts his glasses on, blinking his eyes and trying to get his vision to focus.

“What, there are suddenly fewer devices?" Eve remarks. "Did some just self-destruct?” she chuckles.

Carolyn slides on her glasses. “Scale-out to the rest of the map.”

Bear clicks on his keyboard.

The map separates into two windows.

Eastern Hemisphere

Western Hemisphere

There are dots everywhere. It’s hard to tell that any disappeared.

“Jesus Christ,” Jamie mumbles.

Carolyn narrows her eyes at the map. “Extraordinary.”

Jamie rubs his forehead. “Why the bloody hell did it do that?”

“Er, I sort of...have a theory,” Bear utters, unsure of himself.

All eyes jump to him.

“Uh, well, it seems like the location tracking program they’re using has a built-in safeguard, constructed in layers. Because the number of coordinates went down, I get the feeling not all of those dots represent device locations. I think some are still random. A lot, actually.”

“Huh.” Eve looks back at the map.

“Seems plausible,” Carolyn shrugs.

“How do we test that theory?” Jamie asks from his desk, wondering where he stashed the bottle of Jameson.

“More serial numbers. From other countries. And continents,” Bear responds.

Carolyn sighs, “I was afraid you might say that.”

Eve glances up at the global map. She creases her brow. “What’s going on in America?”

“North or South?”

“North.”

Bear zooms in.

There are many dots in Canada and numerous throughout Central America. The United States only has a handful of dots, mainly on the coasts.

Carolyn analyzes the map. “Apparently The Twelve don’t find it useful to interfere with a system that already has little to no order.”

Eve laughs. Bear and Jamie exchange a glance.

Eve stands, her mind starting to piece information together. “Okay so how do we get more serial numbers?" she poses, gesturing with her hands. "I mean we can’t ignore this anymore. The Twelve are in every continent, practically every country.”

“They certainly have an extended reach,” Carolyn observes.

“It’s more like ‘The Twenty,’” Bear jokes nervously with a cringe. Jamie chuckles.

“Exactly," Eve agrees. "We have to figure out who each of these devices belongs to, if they’re even part of The Twelve, then we work our way up finally getting _The_ Twelve.”

“And then what, Eve?” Carolyn asks, almost combatively.

“And then we track them down and take them in. They must have a ton of information. Um, names of defectors, military operations, government cover-ups, nuclear weapons codes.”

“There are an infinite number of coordinates. Do you truly believe this team has the resources to undertake a job of such considerable size and effort?”

“Carolyn, this is what we’ve been trying to get to this whole time. What-, uh, you’re backing out now?”

Bear stands and talks slowly, “I’m going to get something from the vending machine.”

“I think I’ll go with you.” Jamie follows Bear out.

“After all we’ve done, all the bullshit you’ve put me through.” Eve shakes her head, “The people we lost.”

“Don’t tell me about loss, Eve. You have no idea of the actual cost of this operation.”

“Then why don’t you want to move forward with this?” Eve demands.

“I’m reallocating resources is all," Carolyn dismisses. "Europe today, the rest tomorrow.”

Eve scoffs, “You said it yourself. This has to be done in one blow, one attempt. That’s all we get.”

Carolyn gazes at Eve sharply, maintaining her composure as Eve loses hers. 

“Your resoluteness may be your best attribute as an operative on this job, but it is also your Achilles heel. You have an insufferable tendency to lose sight of practicality and reason.”

“Yeah well maybe your problem is your perfected inability to be upfront or honest, about anything,” Eve sneers, slinking closer. “What are your real motives, Carolyn?”

“Oh, don’t inflate your own ego, Eve. If you want to continue working on this, I suggest you try not to burn your only bridge."

Carolyn is unrelenting.

“Where is she?" she looks around with a shrug. "Are you at all aware of her actual involvement with The Twelve?”

Eve scowls, taking another step closer. “Yes,” she responds firmly.

“Do you really think someone like Villanelle can be devoted? Loyal? To a single person? That she’s capable of such a drastic change in emotional intelligence? Or are you too blinded to recognize manipulation when it’s staring you in the face?”

Eve growls and slaps Carolyn across the face, her dark eyes ravening. Carolyn doesn’t rub her cheek. She turns her head back to Eve and regards her with cold eyes.

“Maybe you are more like her than I initially thought.”

Eve resists darker impulses.

“Do give her my warmest regards,” Carolyn utters then turns on her heel.

Eve looks around for something to break but there’s nothing that wouldn’t be totally destroyed if she threw it against a wall. She seethes as she watches Carolyn glide out of the Bitter Pill then sets her jaw and paces the room, shaking her head furiously. She runs her hand through her hair and pauses, glancing back at the map, standing with both hands on her hips.

Bear and Jamie amble back into the office, Bear with a Mars, Jamie with a Twix.

Eve gathers her jacket and purse.

“Eve, are you alright?” Bear asks with concern.

Jamie can feel Eve’s dark energy. He nods at Bear, “Go save a copy of that serial number, on something better than a torn-up sheet of paper.”

Bear hesitates but he does what he’s told.

Eve shakes her head, “Why would she put a stop in it now? What is she trying to get in the way of?”

“Maybe it is too big a task. You saw the map. That’s a lot to reckon with,” Jamie says.

Eve bites her lip, having no words to express her frustration.

“It’s a losing battle," he goes on. "There’s no way to win this one no matter how many people you bring in to help. The Twelve are just…unbeatable.”

“No. I’m not going to-”

Jamie puts a hand on her shoulder. “Eve, you have to know when to admit defeat.”

Eve shrugs his hand off. “I am not backing down.”

\--------

**ANDORRA, SPAIN**  
[Calor – Conchita Velasco]

Villanelle struts around the hushed streets of Andorra on a wintry evening. She's wearing a black and red striped suit with black lapels and a low cutting black tank underneath. Her hair is braided back and she finishes the look with a striking gold necklace.

She arrives at a luxe restaurant with a modern industrial feel. Dark woods, black metal accents, and exposed brick and pipes in the high ceiling. It’s late, only three other tables are occupied.

Villanelle treats herself to exquisitely prepared escudella and is now on her second flavor of ice cream. She sits a few tables behind and to the side of her target, Samina Kabir.

Samina and her dinner companion, Rashaan Erem, have been drinking wine for the majority of the time that Villanelle has been there, drawing out the entire process. Apparently, they will be eating dinner closer to 11:00 PM and not 10:00 PM as Villanelle had planned for.

Villanelle continues to wait for the opportune moment. She licks the last bit of chocolate ice cream off her spoon. A server approaches her table.

They speak in Spanish.

“Would you like another flavor of ice cream, miss? We have pistachio?”

“Pistachio?” Villanelle is disgusted by the mere concept. “No. Bring me the strawberry.”

“Of course, right away.” He clears her bowl and she smiles at him, though without warmth.

Across the way, another server places bowls of soup in front of Samina and Rashaan.

“Finally,” Villanelle mutters under her breath.

Both Samina and her dinner companion are very obviously feeling the effects of the wine, yet they order another bottle. Villanelle drums her fingers on the table. Waiting, waiting.

Her server returns promptly with the strawberry ice cream.

“La fresa, señorita.” He places it in front of her.

Villanelle grabs the spoon and flashes an exaggerated smile. She takes a bite, keeping her dark eyes locked on her target. Samina takes a dainty sip of her soup.

Villanelle watches and waits.

The other server returns to Samina and Rashaan’s table with a new bottle of Priorat. He presents it to Samina who smiles with delight then he proceeds to open the bottle.

Villanelle slips the straw out of her horchata and slurps all the liquid out.

The server pours a glass of red wine for Samina.

Villanelle slides a 3-inch blow dart out of her napkin. The spear tip is coated in VX, a rapidly acting nerve agent. She very carefully loads the dart into the straw.

She takes a final bite of ice cream.

The server now pours a glass of wine for Rashaan, blocking his line of sight to Villanelle. Villanelle glances around for one last survey, then brings the straw to her lips. She takes a deep breath and puffs into the straw, launching the dart. It cuts through the air and sticks into Samina’s neck. She plucks it out with shaky fingers and brings it into her field of vision.

Villanelle slips the straw back in her drink and stands nonchalantly, tucking a €100 note under the bowl of ice cream.

Samina tenses then convulses in her chair. Her eyes fill with dread as she starts to choke, awful gagging sounds escaping her throat. She thrashes about as both Rashaan and their server watch with wide disturbed eyes, too in shock to be of any help. Samina’s facial muscles become rigid as the life leaves her eyes. The convulsions grow in intensity, then cease. Her heart stops.

She falls face first into her soup, splashing it across the table.

Villanelle grins to herself on the way out.

\--------

**MINSK, BELARUS**  
[Gnossienne No. 1 – Erik Satie]  


Konstantin slumps against the chair in his dismal hotel room. It’s dark, the few street lamps outside shine through the streaky window creating a ghastly glow. The dim light casts shadows across his gaunt features, his eyes drained and glossy, his face pallid, and the corners of his mouth pulled down in a constant frown.

An open bottle of Minsk Kristall vodka and a small revolver sit on the table next to him. He works the flattened cap from the vodka against the hospital bracelet on his wrist, cutting it off. He nicks his skin with the jagged metal, drawing blood, but continues to hack at the plastic band until finally it breaks off. He throws the bracelet and the cap on the ground then takes a long swig of vodka.

Lights from a police cruiser glint through the window and sirens blare as it drives by.

Konstantin stares at the revolver on the table. He takes another pull of vodka then picks up the gun, opening the loaded cylinder and spinning it then clicking it back in place. He leaves the gun in his lap.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

It rings.

No answer.

An automated voice messaging system in Russian.

He slugs back the vodka with watery eyes.

He dials a different number.

It rings.

No answer.

An automated voice messaging system in English.

Another swig of vodka. He grimaces, tears in his eyes.

He sets down the bottle and picks up the gun, feeling the heaviness of it in his hand.

He dials the last number.

It rings.

No answer.

An automated voice messaging system in English.

His sobs into the phone, desperate and pleading. 

“Carolyn, please. Please I need your help, I don’t know what to do. Please. I can’t watch them take her, I can’t. I can’t do it. Please Carolyn, I need, there is no one else. Please. I am out of options. I can’t do it, I can’t anymore, it’s too much. It is all too much. I just…there…please, please...”

He lowers the phone from his ear and cries silently, the tears rolling down his cheeks. He drops the phone on the ground but holds the gun tighter in his hand, shaking as he weeps alone.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Eve looks out the window of Villanelle’s flat at the cloudy day, bored with nothing to do.

She does not tolerate this feeling well.

She looks around the flat; it’s in pretty rough condition.

There are clothes strew about, mostly Villanelle’s who has a terrible habit of leaving articles of clothing wherever she takes them off and never returning to them as if she’s completely forgotten about them, which she probably has. Then again Eve kicks off her shoes and leaves them in random places, for example under the piano.

The kitchen fares no better with dishes in the sink along with many wine glasses and empty bottles on the counter.

It’s hard to say who’s messier, they both contribute to the clutter in their own way.

Eve sighs. She can’t do nothing forever. Villanelle said she would be home sometime today, but who knows when that could be.

She looks around the flat, checking under the kimono on the dining chair to find Villanelle’s headphones. She queues up a song.

[One Way or Another – Blondie]

Eve tackles the kitchen first. She dances as she arranges dirty plates and silverware in the dishwasher, getting creative to make it all fit.

Next are the wine glasses.

There are more than she realizes. They take up almost half of the bottom rack.

Following those, she collects all the dishes and glasses scattered around the flat and jams them into spaces that are almost too small. Then she tosses out all the wine bottles which are somewhat of a concerning amount when they’re all piled together in the same bin.

Next are the clothes. She gathers up all of Villanelle’s items first. She definitely has more thrown about compared to Eve.

Eve tosses them all on the bed just to get them out of the way, then she scoops up all of her pieces and adds them to the pile.

It occurs to her only after that everything ended up in the same place.

Then she goes after the shoes, piling up many pairs of boots and a few pairs of heels, which where did those come from, by the bookcase near the stairs.

After that, she goes back to the bed and starts folding the clothes that seem clean. Villanelle thinks wearing an item once makes it dirty, Eve begs to differ.

She dances and sings loudly, not all that well, as she folds.

Villanelle treads up the stairs with a worn-out sigh. A huge smile spreads across her face once she sees Eve dancing, completely unaware that she’s come home. Villanelle slinks up behind her deciding the next best move.

Eve can feel Villanelle there. She pauses and turns around to Villanelle’s beaming smile and hazel eyes. She rips the headphones off as her face flushes.

Villanelle shrugs, “You got me.”

She slinks up to Eve, wanting to wrap her arms around her.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Villanelle nods, “Long enough.”

Eve slumps, embarrassed. She flops onto the pile of clothes on the bed and tosses the headphones aside.

“Cleaning?” Villanelle asks, looking around the flat and nodding, pleasantly surprised by how much cleaner it looks.

Eve grunts. Villanelle falls onto the bed next to her.

“That is not like you,” she jests.

“Oh God, you’re right.” Eve sits up and looks over at her. “What have I become?”

Villanelle grins, “Domestic. It is cute.”

Eve scoffs and laughs as Villanelle kicks her boots off and cozies up next to her. She closes her eyes and inhales Eve’s scent as Eve wraps her arm around her, running her fingers through her blonde tresses.

Neither care that they’re lying on top of a heap of dirty clothes.

“Did you know that Carolyn called me the other day?” Villanelle asks after a moment.

Eve pauses, she did not know this. “Why? What did she want?”

“She wants me to teach you how to shoot a gun.” Villanelle laughs at the thought.

Eve stops mid-brush, “Was she serious?”

Villanelle nestles her head into Eve’s chest.

“You can brush and think at the same time you know.”

Eve furrows her brow, thinking. She works her fingers through Villanelle’s hair again.

“God, I don’t know what’s scarier. Me not knowing how to use a gun and trying to shoot with it, or me thinking I know how to use a gun and shooting with it.”

“Mm, they are equally awful. But Carolyn thinks you should at least know how to load and shoot a handgun. With some accuracy.”

Eve sighs, “Maybe she’s right.” She thinks on it. “I don’t know though.”

“Why not?” Villanelle sits up to look at Eve. “You’ve pointed guns at people before, it would be good to know how to actually pull the trigger,” she smirks.

Eve rolls her eyes.

Villanelle caresses her cheek. “You’ve pointed guns at me,” she says softly, like it's a tender gesture and not a dangerous threat.

“I know,” Eve nods.

“And you did not know how to shoot them,” Villanelle jokes.

Eve laughs and looks into Villanelle’s limpid hazel eyes.

“No. But unlike you, I was never going to pull the trigger.”

The light vanishes from Villanelle’s eyes.

\--------

**WATFORD**  
Eve stands behind the bench in a lane at an indoor shooting range. Her shooting instructor, Finley, is a tall and lanky kind of guy who appears to be only a few years older than Villanelle. He’s wearing a matching cargo vest and ball cap and seems to take his job very seriously.

A Glock 17, a Beretta PX4 Storm, and a Heckler and Koch VP9 sit on the bench along with magazines and ammunition. Finley goes over each item meticulously with Eve. She does her best to pay attention but Villanelle is in the lane next to them. She dexterously reloads and switches between a Sig Sauer P320 XFull and a Magnum Desert Eagle, purposely missing the majority of her shots.

Finley glances down Villanelle’s lane and evaluates her silhouette target. Only three of ten rounds hit the figure.

Villanelle talks in a Scouse accent just to distract Eve. “I swear, I used to be better at this,” she shrugs innocently at Finley then flashes Eve a fervid smile. 

Eve rolls her eyes.

Finley hands her the Glock. “Give it a go then.”

Eve takes the gun.

“First step?” he asks.

“Safety off.” Eve presses the safety button.

“Right.”

Finley gets into a shooting stance. Eve mimics it.

“Now remember, you want to grip it with an equal amount of pressure from both hands.”

Eve aims the Glock at the target 10 meters downrange.

Finley assesses her stance. “Looks good. When you’re ready.”

Eve grips the gun tightly then fires two rounds, missing the target on both. She grumbles, frustrated by this entire situation.

Villanelle holds the Sig Sauer in her right hand and fires three shots, hitting her target in a diagonal line across the chest. Finley narrows his eyes at her.

He turns back to Eve. “Make sure you pull your finger against the trigger as fast as possible, and with some force.”

“I am,” Eve replies curtly.

She fires another three shots.

Miss  
Miss  
Hit: right hip

Villanelle switches the Sig Sauer to her left hand and fires off three more shots, giving her target an X across the chest.

Eve angrily fires the last two shots in the magazine.

Hit: right shoulder  
Miss

Villanelle laughs as she loads the Magnum.

Eve pulls off her headphones and sets the Glock on the bench. “I need a break.” She runs a hand through her wild hair.

Finley sighs. His students are normally improving at this point.

“Maybe your friend can give you a few tips, eh?” He looks over at Villanelle. “She seems to know her way around a gun.”

Villanelle glances over at Finley, not appreciating his tone.

Eve shakes her head. “She doesn’t have the self-control to teach me and I don’t have the patience to let her.”

Villanelle rapidly fires the entire magazine of the Magnum, annihilating the target. She slips off her headphones and stalks around to Eve’s lane still holding the gun in her hand.

“We are not friends.”

She sets the gun on the bench.

“We are lovers.”

Finley’s eyes grow wide. “Oh, uh, God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume, it’s just that you-”

Eve throws up a hand, “Really, it’s fine.”

Villanelle smiles and nods sympathetically, “No one ever expects it.”

She smiles charmingly at Finley. He swallows and rubs his sweaty palms on his pants, his eyes jumping back and forth between Eve and Villanelle.

Villanelle wraps her arm around Eve’s waist in an overdone manner. “Sometimes she lets her pride get in her way.” She pulls Eve in closer. Eve presses her lips into a forced a smile. “It’s hard for her not to have total control over something.”

Finley swallows again, unsure of how to act. His hairline glistens with sweat.

Villanelle flashes a beguiling smile. “Maybe I can show her a few things?”

Finely stares at them as if he didn’t hear the question.

“I’m very responsible with firearms,” Villanelle nods.

Finley stammers, “Uh, uh, um, yeah. I’ll give you some time to practice.” He rubs his hands on his pants again, “Uh. Okay then.” He hurries away awkwardly.

Eve pulls away from Villanelle.

“Really? I’m the one who has the problem with not being in control?”

Villanelle’s Russian accent returns. “What? I did you a favor.”

Eve rolls her eyes and shakes her head, more irritated than before.

Villanelle shrugs. “I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.” She picks up the Beretta. “Do it again.”

“So you can tell me everything I’m doing wrong?” Eve scowls.

Villanelle works to stay levelheaded. “Eve, I am trying to help you.”

Eve doesn’t move.

Villanelle holds out the gun. “Show me your stance.”

Eve reluctantly snatches it up. She gets in her stance and points the gun downrange.

“I hate this.”

Villanelle chuckles, “I know.”

Eve drops her arms, “God, I knew you just-“

“No, no,” Villanelle waves her hand stepping closer to Eve, “hold it back up.”

Eve debates. They stare at each other, eyes dark but animated. Eve sighs and concedes. She points the gun back at the target.

Villanelle grins to one side as she scrutinizes Eve’s posture. Eve readjusts self-consciously.

“Drop your shoulders,” Villanelle coaches.

Eve obeys, wiggling them up and down, not realizing how scrunched up they were.

Villanelle slides her hands into her pockets and circles behind Eve, scanning her body, grinning as she does so. Eve glances over out of the side of her eye.

“Loosen your grip a little.”

Eve relaxes her fingers, but her arms and body tense.

Villanelle chuckles, “Relax, Eve.”

“It’s hard when you’re standing right there staring at me.”

Villanelle tilts her head, analyzing Eve. She crosses her arms and licks then bites her lower lip in thought.

She notes Eve’s posture, how tense her arm muscles are, how far apart her legs are, where her weight is distributed, the slight bend at her elbows, the tilt of her head, the look of determination on her face.

Eve shifts restlessly under Villanelle’s gaze. Villanelle uncrosses her arms and continues to study Eve.

“Don’t be afraid of the gun, Eve. You are the one holding it.” Eve swallows and glances over at Villanelle. “It is only a weapon if you want it to be,” she says calmly.

Eve sighs and looks back at the target creasing her brow, resolute on mastering this. She readjusts her stance and lines up the sights as Villanelle steps behind her and looks over her shoulder.

Eve fires a shot making herself flinch.

Miss

Villanelle leans in closer. Eve fires four more shots in quick succession.

Miss  
Hit: left hip  
Hit: right abdomen  
Hit: right chest

Eve’s shoulders hunch up and she's fiercely gripping the gun again.

[Strange Effect – Unloved]

Villanelle leans her body against Eve’s back. Eve relaxes into her, keeping the Beretta pointed downrange.

Villanelle murmurs in Eve’s ear, “Breathe. Focus only on that.”

Eve takes a few deep breaths feeling Villanelle pressed against her.

“Drop your left arm,” Villanelle whispers softly.

Eve lets her left arm fall to her side. She brings the gun closer to her body, her muscles straining from fatigue. Villanelle takes a step to the side and reaches around, Eve tucking her shoulder and allowing Villanelle to grasp the grip of the gun. She leans her head against Eve's shoulder making her vibrate under her touch.

She tries to steady her breathing but it’s hard, her hand wrapped around Eve's on the grip. She lines up the sights then slides her finger over Eve’s on the trigger. Eve swallows hard and huffs out a ragged breath through her nose. Villanelle leans into her, inhaling the scent of her curls.

They share the same heartbeat.

Then Villanelle pulls the trigger.

The bullet rips a hole through the target’s heart.

Eve lets out a shaky laugh; Villanelle’s breath falters. They tremble against each other, breathing heavy, their muscles twitching and quivering. Villanelle shuts her eyes and melts into Eve as Eve rests against her, closing her eyes too.

The rest of the world falls away.

They sink into each other, warm bodies pressed up together until their breathing returns to normal.

Villanelle nuzzles into Eve’s hair then pushes off of her.

“Do it again.”

Eve lets out a sigh then takes a deep breath, attempting to regain some composure. She unloads the magazine and clicks in a full one from the bench then gets back in her stance.

She lines up the sights.

Villanelle bites her lower lip and watches with fiery hazel eyes.

Eve drops her shoulders.

She takes a breath.

Villanelle clutches the fabric of her coat. She gulps a breath.

Eve flutters her fingers against the metal.

She takes a breath.

Villanelle’s body tenses. She holds a breath.

Eve drops her arms and turns to Villanelle.

“Show me again?”

Villanelle sighs out a wobbly breath. She swallows and clears her throat.

“What?”

\--------

**VENICE**  
[Remember – Unloved]

Carolyn sits in the cabin of a cruiser boat docked on the canal. She’s wearing a dark grey wool overcoat with a white and navy-blue patterned scarf. She sips on mulled wine. A woman with dark brown hair cut in a medium bob steps into the cabin. She’s wearing a rust-colored wool overcoat with a cream turtleneck.

She sits across from Carolyn. “Buonasera.” Her Italian accent is bouncy and sweet. “I am so sorry I am late. But I am glad that you have a drink in your hand."

“I always have to get a Vin Brulé when I’m in Italy,” Carolyn grins.

“It will most certainly warm you up on a freezing winter night.”

“Indeed, it has.” Carolyn takes another sip.

“I was pleasantly surprised to hear from Graham," the woman comments. "His Italian still serves him well.”

Carolyn smiles, “Yes. I wish the same could be said for me.”

“I am sure that you are being modest.”

“You’ve always had a knack for flattery, Mariella.”

Mariella chuckles, “So I have been told. But I suppose you have not come all this way only to share a drink with me?”

“Unfortunately, not. Though that is long overdue.”

Carolyn gives her a smug grin. Mariella smiles warmly then pulls a folded sealed manila envelope out of an inner pocket.

She locks eyes with Carolyn as she hands it to her, “You are sailing quite close to the wind, Carolyn.”

Carolyn takes the envelope, her fingers brushing against Mariella's. “Haven’t we been already?” She simpers over her drink.

Mariella smirks, “Maybe you did come to Venezia simply to seek my company after all?”

“Venice is incredible in the snow.”

“A rare beauty it is.”

Their gazes grow in intensity.

“I assume there’s no digital trace of this?” Carolyn asks.

“I have the best team of cyber analysts, you know this.” Mariella places a hand over her heart. “I am almost hurt you thought to ask.”

“All in good faith,” Carolyn shrugs then takes the last sip of her drink. “Join me in another?”

Mariella chuckles, “We are expecting company.”

\--------

Eve fires the last bullet in the Glock. It hits the target in the left shoulder.

“I’m ending on that.”

Villanelle nods, satisfied by Eve’s progress.

Eve sighs and leans against the barricade between the lanes. She slumps down and sits on the ground, still holding the gun. Villanelle sits next to her. Their shoulders touch. Eve tosses the empty pistol down between her feet and leans over on Villanelle.

“You'll need more practice,” Villanelle notes absently.

“Yeah,” Eve chuckles.

Villanelle distractedly rubs her thumb against her palm in her lap, her eyes distant.

Eve furrows her brow at her, “What is it?”

Villanelle looks over, “Huh?” She meets Eve’s troubled eyes, “What?”

They look into each other’s eyes both searching for answers, their breathing growing louder in their ears. The gunshots from the other shooters sound as if they’re miles away.

[Cry Baby Cry - Unloved]

Villanelle’s heart beats faster as her palms dampen with sweat. She shakes her head and looks away from Eve, the feeling inside her growing. Eve turns to her with concern, wanting to take her hand to comfort her. Villanelle sighs, tears coming to her eyes. She can’t bring herself to look back at Eve.

Eve’s heart picks up its rhythm as she tries to read Villanelle but can't. She gazes at her with worry, wanting to help her but not knowing how.

Villanelle breathes heavily trying to contain the emotions. “Eve, I did something,” she huffs out.

Eve leans closer to her. She doesn’t press, she waits.

Villanelle groans as a tear falls down her cheek. She bounces her leg in an attempt to fight off the painful feelings. She looks at Eve with torment in her eyes.

Eve wipes away her tear, “It’s okay. Whatever it is.”

Villanelle shakes her head and inhales sharply, trying desperately to stay in control. Her breathe is shallow and shaky as tears stream down her cheeks.

“Eve,” she implores in agony.

Eve suffers seeing her like this. She takes her hand.

“I’m right here.”

Villanelle whimpers. She hangs her head fighting off the emotions, trying to force them away deeper inside of her but there’s nowhere for them to go. She groans, not winning this internal battle.

Eve’s heart beats harder in her chest.

Villanelle takes a deep breath and lifts her head. The tears have stopped but her eyes are bloodshot and devoid, nowhere near the present. She clenches her jaw so tight it hurts, her neck muscles rigid, her whole body quivering.

Eve has never seen someone in such agony before.

Villanelle swallows and forces the words out. “I killed my mother.” Her voice sounds small and far away to her, like someone else spoke the words.

Eve’s body falls, her eyes grow more concerned. “How did she hurt you?” she asks, her tone calm but direct.

Villanelle shakes her head angrily, “Eve, I blew up the house.”

Eve nods with accepting eyes.

Villanelle panics from Eve’s calmness.

“There were other people inside.”

Eve creases her brow. Tears come to her eyes now.

“It must have been bad then.”

Villanelle shakes her head at Eve, not able to comprehend her reaction. She fumbles around not knowing how to act.

“No, Eve.”

Eve gently places her hand on Villanelle’s cheek. Confusion and anguish swirl around Villanelle’s desolate eyes. Eve tries to alleviate her pain.

“I won’t ever leave you, Oksana.”

Villanelle shakes her head in disbelief, pushing Eve’s hand away.

“I killed members of my own family,” she growls.

Eve looks at her with solemn eyes, “When will you learn that I love you for exactly who you are?”

Tears come back to Villanelle’s eyes. Her neck twitches.

“You love me?”

Eve lets out a breath and nods. “Yes,” she says simply, like there’s no other answer.

Villanelle breathes out, waiting for more. “Why won’t you say the words?” she asks, her voice quiet.

Eve chuckles and runs her hand through her curls. Regret starts to arise with Villanelle, then fear. Her heart races wildly.

Eve sighs heavily and looks Villanelle in the face. She lets out a laugh. “I was obsessed with just the idea of you. The thought that there was this woman out there capable of such prowess, and flare, and, style was intoxicating. It was something I couldn’t let go of. You were on my mind all the time, even if I didn’t want you to be.”

Villanelle’s eyes lift and lighten.

Eve shakes her head, thinking back to the beginning. “Carolyn and Bill tried to convince me that it would be impossible to chase you down, that I was totally insane for wanting to and thinking I could." She shrugs, “They were wrong.”

Tears hover in Villanelle’s eyes.

“I knew that this exceptional woman _wanted_ me to chase her, and I wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that.” Eve sighs and looks off in the distance. “What I’ve come to realize now, is that,” she looks back at Villanelle, “I don’t think I was ever really going after that assassin. I just wanted to get to you.” She runs her hand through her hair, “God, that sounds so stupid.”

Villanelle can hardly speak. “You mean it?” she manages to get out.

Eve caresses her cheek, “All of it.”

Villanelle sighs out with a smile, “Was that so hard to say?”

Eve laughs and Villanelle joins her. They both tremble, all their nerves on edge.

Villanelle swallows then becomes serious.

“There is something else.”

A jolt of adrenaline rushes through Eve. Her heart flutters faster.

Villanelle slips a knife, _the_ knife, out of her jacket. Eve’s eyes fill with panic.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, Villanelle!” She stammers, “Wh-, w-, how did you get that?!”

Villanelle scrunches her brow, “Where did you leave it?”

“Oh my God! In the ladies’ room at the train station in Paris!”

“That is a terrible place to put it.”

“What was I supposed to do with it? I couldn’t bring it on the train!”

Villanelle gazes at it in her hand. She flicks out the blade.

“How did you get it, Villanelle?” Eve demands.

“Hélène gave it to me.”

“What?” Eve’s heart beats faster.

Villanelle stares at the blade, transfixed by it.

“Oh my God,” Eve rests her head in her hands.

Villanelle spins the knife with one hand, the other subconsciously drifting to her scar.

Eve hangs her head, her heart racing impossibly fast as her thoughts fly around her mind. Villanelle ponders on this too.

“Eve.”

Eve doesn’t look up.

“Eve,” Villanelle tries a little louder.

Eve looks over at her with empty eyes.

Villanelle slips the blade under Eve’s chin, turning her head up to meet her gaze. Eve’s eyes are distant, but she doesn’t jerk away. She complies.

“We will watch The Twelve burn. I promise.”

Neither move.

They just stare at each other, wondering how they will survive this.

Eve disregards the blade and leans in. Villanelle quickly lowers the knife and drops it between her legs to take Eve’s face in her hands.

They kiss, a long single kiss.

\--------

Carolyn and Mariella laugh over drinks.

“No I knew perfectly well, that was the problem.”

Mariella chuckles, “But to this day you will never tell me how.”

Their boat glides to a stop.

The driver throws a rope to the bundled-up man on the dock. He nimbly wraps it around a cleat and helps a woman in a long midnight blue overcoat step onto the boat, then he unties the rope and pushes the boat off.

Adalene steps down into the cabin.

Mariella beams. “Adalene. A sight for sore eyes.”

“The same could be said about you.” She sits next to Carolyn, noticing their rosy cheeks and near-empty drinks. “Am I going to have to catch up?”

Carolyn grins at her. “You’ll never be able to.”

“You have never known the pleasure of trying to keep up with the Russians,” Mariella smiles.

Adalene chuckles, “No, only the two of you.”

They all laugh. Carolyn pours Adalene a glass of burgundy Vin Brulé from a gold thermal carafe.

They all share sly smirks.

Carolyn looks to Mariella. “Are you equipped for Operation Odesa?”

Mariella glances over at Adalene then back at Carolyn.

“I thought you would never ask.”

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many ex-shags does Carolyn have? The world will never know
> 
> I got soft on the Villaneve content oops
> 
> Thank you Google for helping me pretend to know about guns
> 
> For anyone wondering I’m from the US and it is absolute chaos right now
> 
> If you’ve made it this far please leave me some feedback – good or bad!


	5. Like You, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène tightens her grip on Irina and Villanelle; Carolyn and Eve confront separate obstacles to the operation; Marion isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really an episode 5 without an anxiety-inducing kitchen scene?
> 
> Sorry for the delay! This turned out to be SO long. I don’t know how it happened
> 
> Song you will need (in order):  
> Dangerous Charms – The Delmonas  
> Fail We May Sail We Must – Unloved  
> Lee – Unloved  
> Migas 2000 – The Limiñanas  
> Danger – Unloved  
> Why Not – Unloved  
> It's Not You, It's Me – Unloved  
> We Are Unloved – Unloved  
> Unloved Heart – Unloved  
> Tell Mama – Unloved  
> Killer Shangri-Lah – Pshycotic Beats  
> Forever Unloved – Unloved  
> Xpectations – Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: Like You, Baby](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wPVhFMs4rrNRSUgJYgfOR)

**LONDON**  
Eve shakes her leg restlessly under the table in a posh restaurant. The lights are turned low and candles in red glass holders flicker atop tables draped in black cloth. Eve’s curls are pulled back in a low bun and she’s wearing a silky white blouse. One that Villanelle hand selected for her in Milan. She checks her phone for the time.

9:27 PM

She drums her fingers on the table then glances over her shoulder to the entrance of the restaurant.

A couple walks through the door. The woman laughs too hard at whatever comment the man just made.

Eve sighs then calls Carolyn. It rings.

No answer.

“Did I go to the wrong place or something? I’ve been here for almost thirty minutes but I don’t see you anywhere. Or Helen…”

Eve scans the dining area. She notices, for the first time, a woman sitting four tables away with dark hair and darker eyes staring at her. The woman spins a knife adroitly with her fingers.

It is not a knife from the restaurant.

Eve locks eyes with Marion.

[Dangerous Charms – The Delmonas]

“Uh, Carolyn. I think they know.” Eve stands slowly, “I think they sent someone…”

Marion spins the knife once more then stands, eyes trained on Eve. She casually slips the knife into her sleeve.

“Oh God.”

Eve bolts and rushes towards the entrance leaving her bag behind. She flies past a waiter.

“Ma’am, your-“

She shoves past him, weaving through tables and dodging other servers, Marion prowling after her with a smile on her face. Eve catches her fiendish reflection in the heavy glass door as she throws it open, turning sharply and breaking into a run down the pavement.

The rain hits her face and eyes, blurring her vision. She clutches her phone with a vice-like grip and gets her legs moving faster, Marion right on her tail, her long limbs gliding agilely.

Eve checks her shoulder to find Marion closer than she thought.

“Oh Jesus,” she breathes out and sprints, Marion chasing after her with a savage grin.

They splash through puddles and swerve around people.

Eve clips a man on the shoulder, slowing her pace. Marion shoves him to the side making him topple to the ground, gaining distance but still a few steps behind.

An intense pain rips through Eve’s lungs with every frantic breath as she panics trying to think of a way to escape.

Run into that store? Dart across the street? Turn down that lane?

Marion tears after her, her body moving effortlessly as she grips the handle of the knife ready to pull it from her sleeve at the right moment. 

Eve knows she can’t keep up this pace for long, her legs burning and her heart slamming against her chest, blood pounding in her ears. She chances a glance over her shoulder and catches Marion darting between two people, right on her heels. She whips her head forward and forces her legs faster, noticing a bus stopped on the curb two blocks ahead. She kicks it into another gear determined to make it in time, Marion racing after her, somewhat impressed with her speed.

They’re 50 meters away.

Eve’s boots are soaked through and slosh with every step. Fatigue sets into her legs making them feel heavier and heavier as she presses on. Marion slips the knife from her sleeve but keeps it snug against her forearm as they advance towards the bus pushing past people and avoiding bumpers in the crosswalks. She gains ground but keeps some distance between them, making Eve sweat.

Twenty meters away.

Eve groans as she runs as fast as she can, throwing her head down and pumping her arms. Tears form in her eyes from rain and exhaustion but she can see enough to tell that the doors of the bus are swinging closed.

“No!” she yells, her heart hammering against her ribs as she sucks in air.

She knows she’s not going to make it in time.

The bus starts to pull away from the curb as total fatigue forces Eve to slow her strides, Marion rapidly closing the distance between them. Eve looks back over her shoulder completely winded, each sharp inhale feeling as though razors are slashing through her lungs. She doubles over, her chest heaving as she struggles for air, wiping her wet eyes with her sleeve.

Marion jogs up to her panting evenly, her body already recovering. She smirks at Eve, light glinting on the blade against her arm.

A wave of nausea hits Eve from the lack of oxygen. “No,” she pants, gulping in air. “No!” She kicks off the pavement and dashes away, willing her legs to move.

Marion is caught off-balance but picks up her speed after Eve who flings herself down the next alley between a drug store and a hookah lounge, all of her muscles tightening and tensing with each stride. She groans as she expels every last bit of energy trying to get away then she breaks to a stop and turns to face Marion.

Marion eases up in surprise. 

Eve’s legs tremble and she isn’t sure she might not collapse on the ground right there but she stands up straight, ready to fight. Marion lets out a laugh between huffs, stalking towards Eve and gripping the knife firmly.

Eve’s breathing is so fast that it catches and falters and she has to hold a hand on her hip to keep herself upright, but she is resolute. Marion raises her brow amused by her valor despite her obvious exhaustion. She holds her position and twirls the knife in her hand.

Eve takes an unsteady step towards her, her pants sticking to her legs from rain and sweat, blood pulsing loudly in her ears, dampening her hearing.

The possibility of fainting crosses her mind again.

“Who sent you?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

Marion flashes an allured smile. “You don’t know?”

Eve creases her brow. “What?” she responds, her entire body is spent. She has to work to stay standing, resting both hands on her knees.

Marion chuckles, “Eve.”

Eve looks up at her through unfocused eyes, her chest ablaze and her entire body feeling as if it’s made of lead. She watches Marion spins the knife around her thumb then catch it securely by the handle.

Eve’s pulse pounds in her head and her vision spins. The ringing grows louder in her ears as darkness moves into her periphery, tunneling her vision.

She thinks she actually might faint.

Marion smirks with feral black eyes, reveling in Eve’s imminent defeat. She smiles curling her lips as she whips her arm to the side and slings the knife down the wet asphalt towards Eve.

Eve springs up, adrenaline surging through her giving her a second wind. The knife skirts against the ground and comes to a stop near her feet. She glances at it then flicks her eyes up at Marion.

Marion leers at her then slowly starts backing away, running her tongue across her teeth then biting the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood. She clamps her jaw tight and growls through her teeth into a yell, vehemently pulling her hood up and turning away from Eve, sneering and bouncing on her feet as she fights her impulses. She shakes her head and forces her body to run away.

Eve glimpses her reflection in the wet blade before she snatches up the knife and jogs warily after Marion. She rests her arm on the wet brick and peeks around the corner expecting to see Marion’s hooded figure running away, but she’s not there.

Eve checks the other direction.

Marion is nowhere.

** KILLING EVE **

**PARIS**  
[Fail We May Sail We Must – Unloved]  
Irina twirls back and forth in a recliner in a grand study. The walls are lined with mahogany floor to ceiling bookcases filled with literary greats bound by colorful spines. An antique world map hangs on the far wall and a large globe sits under a spotlight in the corner.

A fire cracks and pops in the black marble fireplace, a coat of arms on display above.

Hélène glides into the room, her phone against her ear.

She speaks in Italian.

“I don’t have time.”

A muffled response as Irina eyes her curiously.

“That is the only option,” she snaps then smiles at Irina.

A muffled response.

“Figure it out. Don’t call me back until it’s done.” She ends the call and takes a breath to settle herself. “I hope you were able to sleep last night. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

“Am I starting Bulgarian today or do I have to keep practicing Romanian?” Irina asks with an eye roll.

“You don’t like learning in Romanian?”

“Sitting through five hours of Nicolae teaching in Romanian is like listening to the most annoying song on the radio on repeat. It’s terrible,” Irina complains, stopping her spinning in the chair. “That is obviously not his first language. I can speak it better than him.”

“Show me,” Hélène responds in Romanian. “Tell me something you learned about chemistry.”

Irina leans back in the chair, grinning smugly.

“Covalent bonds are the strongest chemical bonds between atoms,” she explains in Romanian. “Nicolae says that the atoms share electrons equally but really it is the stronger atom stealing electrons from the weaker atom.”

Hélène raises a brow.

“And the more covalent bonds there are between atoms, the harder it is to break them apart. Like it takes so much energy to break triple bonds.”

“But it is not impossible.”

Irina thinks on this.

“You will continue with it,” Hélène instructs. “You can never have too much practice with a language. It is better to master fewer languages than to be inadequate in many.”

Irina switches to Russian. “I’ve already mastered ten languages. What do you want to hear?”

She names them off proudly.

“English? Deutsche? O quizás Español? Ou Português?”

Hélène grins at Irina’s persistence.

“Íslensku? Það var svo auðvelt að læra.”

Hélène slips her hands in her back pockets.

“Pǔtōnghuà? Eurbaa? Ou votre préféré, Française?”

Hélène switches to Portuguese. “You can never know how fluent you are in a language until you are put in a situation that requires you to speak it on the spot, without hesitation or error. I am not convinced you are able to do that, in many of those languages.”

Irina scoffs. “You haven’t even heard me speak in half of those,” she replies in German.

“Which is why I know you need more practice,” Hélène retorts, matching her German, “both speaking and listening. I wouldn’t want you to falter at an inopportune moment.”

Irina crosses her arms frustrated that Hélène can speak these languages too.

She switches to Icelandic. “Am I a hostage?”

Hélène laughs but it feels forced. “No.” She switches to Spanish. “You are free to go if that is what you want. But there are some people who are not happy about the way you left the detention center. And there are others who do not appreciate what you did while you were there.”

“How much longer are you going to make me stay here?” Irina asks in Arabic.

“You have everything you need here,” Hélène answers in French. “A place to sleep, hot food to eat, tutors to teach you. What more could you want?”

“I want to go home,” Irina responds in Russian, staying with her native language.

“To Moscow?” Hélène retorts then gazes pensively into the dancing flames. “I am afraid that there is no longer family for you there.”

Irina scoffs, “I don’t get scared the way other people do. Pretending that my family was murdered is not going to get me to do what you want.”

“I wish I were pretending.”

“You don’t have to keep trying to convince me. It won’t work. I know you just want to make me think that they were killed so you can keep me here for as long as you want.”

Hélène turns to Irina with solemn eyes.

“Your mother was killed in a car accident last week.”

“That is so unoriginal. If you are going to lie at least make it something interesting like getting attacked by a bear. That would be more believable just because it is not so textbook.”

Hélène presses her lips in a thin line, unsmiling. She disappears into another room and returns with a laptop, setting it on the coffee table in front of Irina.

“Because you are so obstinate.” She switches to Russian, “See it for yourself.”

Irina flips open the laptop with force. She types “Moscow car accident Galina Vasiliev” in the search engine. Her shoulders drop. Three news articles come up.

“Gasoline tanker collides with oncoming vehicle killing four excluding the driver”

“Fatal wrong-way in intersection causes tanker truck explosion”

“Victims of fiery Moscow car crash identified”

Irina quickly exits out of the search window, her body trembling.

“I thought it should be your father who told you, but perhaps he does not even know, or care to find out.”

Irina slams the laptop shut. “You did this?!”

Hélène shrugs indifferently, “Accidents happen all the time. It is unfortunate that many have happened to your family.”

Irina fights off tears. “She didn’t have to die!” she yells. Her voice breaks.

“This is nothing more than a tragic coincidence. But sometimes that is exactly what you need to set you on the path where you are supposed to be.”

“I don’t know what I want to be!” Irina scowls.

“The choices you have been making lately indicate otherwise,” Hélène responds with a raised brow.

Irina refuses to meet her gaze.

Hélène talks down at her, “You don’t have to hide who you are anymore, Irina. You can embrace it. Once you fully accept that part of yourself there will be nothing that can stop you. You will have the power to shape the future.”

“I will do it on my own I don’t need your help,” Irina snaps through her teeth.

Hélène chuckles, “I admire your tenacity, and I have no doubt that you will achieve success. I only want to ensure that by giving you superior skills and training. It is undeniable that you have remarkable inherent talent, but think of what more you could do if you learned to harness your abilities.”

Irina meets Hélène’s stony eyes.

“If you perfected them.” Hélène wanders around the study with poise. “You will be starting a new assignment today. It takes a certain type of person to kill on command, no more passion projects.”

“Are you trying to turn me into someone like Villanelle?”

“Do you want to be like her?”

“I want to be better than her.”

A savage smile appears on Hélène’s face. “I believe you can be. That is why you are here.”

Villanelle saunters into the study as if on cue. Her hair is in a sleek low bun and she’s wearing a black camouflage bomber jacket with bright orange inner lining.

Hélène smiles, “Ah, speak of the devil.”

Villanelle raises her brows looks over both shoulders.

Hélène has less patience for Villanelle’s antics. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for Marion,” 

Villanelle responds in English.

Hélène shuts her eyes for a breath.

“She was talking about you,” Irina chimes in. “You are so stupid.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes at Irina. “I should have left you in Moscow.”

“But you did not,” Hélène cuts in tersely.

The playfulness falls from Villanelle. She crosses her arms.

“I am not speaking Russian. Or French.”

“Marion is not coming,” Hélène explains. 

Villanelle sighs overdramatically, “That is a relief.” She slinks over to Irina, “She is worse than you.”

“She is in London.”

Villanelle’s neck twitches ever so slightly. “London is shit.”

“Keeping a check on your counterpart, or _amante_ , as you might prefer,” Hélène says, raising a brow at Villanelle.

Her eyes darken as her brow creases subtlety and her nostrils flare.

Hélène chuckles, “You don’t need to worry, she knows she can’t kill Eve.”

“Eve?” Irina asks in disbelief. “She is so old,” she laughs.

“Shut up,” Villanelle snaps back at her.

Hélène and Villanelle slowly step in opposite directions, circling each other like two jaguars fighting for territory.

Hélène raises her chin. “Eve must have a lot of time to herself when you are away. I am curious what she does to keep herself busy?”

“Sleeping. Cleaning.” Villanelle shrugs and nods, “Drinking mostly.”

“Visiting old friends?” Hélène asks airily.

Villanelle doesn’t falter. “Eve doesn’t have friends to visit.” She cringes, “I killed her best friend.”

Irina laughs in amusement but Hélène remains unaffected. She pulls a postcard out of the back of her trousers and flings it on the coffee table. It lands face down. Villanelle doesn’t make a move to grab it.

Their eyes stay fixed on each other.

Irina looks back and forth between them, snatching up the postcard and flipping it around.

“What is it?” she asks. “A postcard?”

Villanelle keeps her eyes on Hélène. “Where does it say?”

Irina lets out a laugh, “London.”

“You make me come here just so you can send me back?” Villanelle glares.

“I can’t have you interfering with matters that don’t directly involve you, now can I?”

Villanelle resists acting on impulse. She does her best to appear unshaken even though her body heats up as she tries to contain her anger.

“I could send you somewhere else, but I am letting you go back to London. I told you we wanted to keep you two together.” Hélène shrugs, “Everyone is happier that way.”

Irina can’t contain herself. “You and Eve?” she asks, laughing hard.

“ _Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point,_ ” Hélène recites without passion.

\--------

**LONDON**  
[Lee – Unloved]  
Carolyn stands on the Southwark Bridge gazing across the frigid waters to the buildings against the cloudy grey sky, the collar of her thick black wool jacket upturned. Eve strides up wearing an olive-green beanie and a parka with fur around the hood.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere inside?” she asks with a chuckle.

Carolyn shrugs, “This is per your request to meet away from CCTV.”

Eve huddles into herself trying to stay warm in the icy air, staring down at the glacial river. Neither she nor Carolyn speaks.

Eve finally turns, “I think The Twelve know about the operation or that we’re planning something. I think they knew about our meeting and sent someone to spy on it, and I think they could possibly already know about the map. And the serial numbers.”

“If they sent someone, I suspect they must know something,” Carolyn responds cryptically.

Eve rubs her forehead. “Do you think they could have some place bugged? Your house or the Bitter Pill? Villanelle’s apartment maybe?”

“Do you have any idea if you were being followed previous to the meeting? Days prior?”

Eve sighs, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Villanelle and I were…at home mostly.”

“Hm. Did you catch a glimpse of your pursuer?”

Eve nods. “Brunette. Late 20s, early 30s maybe. Sharp jawline. Dark eyes, almost black. Tall. Athletic. She chased me five blocks but wasn’t tired at all. And her accent was…off. French, I think.”

“A woman?”

Eve huffs a laugh, “Yeah.”

“Too bad Villanelle wasn’t available, that could have been a volatile confrontation.”

Eve scoffs a laugh, “The Twelve are keeping her busy.”

“Keeping her focused on work,” Carolyn corrects.

Eve thinks about Villanelle. Wonders what she’s doing, where her next job will be, what she’ll wear for it, how she’ll complete the kill.

When she’ll be back.

She ponders on this then creases her brow and pushes off the banister, looking at Carolyn head-on.

“Why didn’t you show? You or Helen?”

“We made the decision to defer, moments before your call.”

Eve’s eyes grow darker, more hostile.

It clicks.

“Did you already know?”

“I had a feeling, yes,” Carolyn responds easily.

Eve scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief. She bites down on her lower lip.

“Wow.”

“Now that we’ve confirmed that The Twelve do in fact have some knowledge of the operation, the next inquiry to address is how they were able to obtain it.”

“Are we even working on the same side anymore? Maybe you’re the one relaying information?” Eve retorts.

Carolyn turns to her. “Eve, you are somewhat of an anomaly in this situation. You don’t work for me, or any agency for that matter, yet you are still determined to take down The Twelve despite the fact that you are in a relationship with one of their assassins.”

Eve scoffs and shakes her head. “Why do you alway-“

“Your involvement with Villanelle gives you a kind of impunity. If The Twelve order a hit on you and complete it, Villanelle would self-destruct, making her of no use to them.”

Eve shrugs, “They could just kill her then.”

“They don’t want that.” Carolyn narrows her eyes at Eve, debating. “I’m becoming more confident in the idea that Villanelle is their top assassin. They’ve trained her to be far superior, unfailing. She’s instinctive, skillful, clever with deception, and most importantly has the uncanny ability to survive, despite all obstacles. They need her working well for them.”

Eve glances towards the Tower Bridge, holding her words, trying her absolute hardest to keep her temper under control.

Carolyn shrugs. “You’re simply worth more alive.”

“Oh great,” Eve laughs. “I’m worth more to them than I am to you.”

“It was a calculated decision on my part. I knew you would be able to navigate the situation efficiently and you did. I was only hoping you’d be able to get more information from whoever it was that they sent.”

Eve presses her fingers to the center of her forehead. She sighs heavily and refocuses.

“I think they’ve been tracking our phones and possibly have access to all of our calls and messages.”

“That’s always the risk with cellphones. They completely changed the field of secret intelligence and not for the better.”

“I’m going to find out. We need to know so we can outsmart them, stay ahead,” Eve says with a forceful gesture of her hand.

“We’ll have to go back to in-person communication only. That’s how it should be all the time really.”

Eve nods absently, already devising a plan.

“Be sure to relay the message to Villanelle,” Carolyn adds, “though not over the phone.”

Eve throws up her hands, “Well obviously.”

Carolyn shrugs innocently.

She gazes off into the horizon. “I’ll give you the liberty of choosing the location of our next meeting.”

“Great. I’ll make it someplace warm that also serves alcohol.”

“A hot buttered rum would be divine right now.”

Eve stares at Carolyn, a little disconcerted.

Moments pass.

“Alright then. I’ll send my update…” Eve shrugs. “Via carrier pigeon,” she says with a laugh.

Carolyn doesn’t react, she stares off longingly.

“Do keep in mind that once things are put in motion this far along, it becomes very hard to stop them, regardless of collateral damage.”

\--------

**MOSCOW**  
[Migas 2000 – The Limiñanas]  
Marion rides a black Kawasaki Ninja through the busy streets of Moscow navigating through traffic. She weaves between cars and large trucks making calculated maneuvers, cutting it close at times then opening the throttle and revving the engine in the long gaps between vehicles.

Reckless riding is one of her favorite distractions.

She pulls up to the ice-skating rink on Red Square, dismounting the motorcycle and striding down the sidewalk confidently wearing a black leather jacket, black pants, black boots, and black riding gloves.

Konstantin leans against the railing of the rink watching the bundled-up ice skaters float and glide on the ice. Marion skulks up behind him making no sound at all. She grabs him hard by the shoulder.

“Aye!” He turns quickly as Marion laughs wickedly. He grimaces and rubs his chest. “You people are going to scare me to death!”

“You look like hell,” Marion observes, setting her helmet on the cold pavement.

“I have a poor heart that keeps getting weaker every time I talk to a French woman,” Konstantin responds still rubbing his chest.

Marion chuckles. She leans up against the railing next to him, watching as two young skaters help their friend get up from the ice.

“Did you ever you wonder about me?” She turns to him, “Hm?”

Konstantin nods, “Of course. They never told me anything about you after. I didn’t know where they sent you or what they wanted to do with you. They just tell me you were gone.” He barks a laugh, “I didn’t think we would ever be talking face to face again.”

Marion shakes her leg as her eyes dart from skater to skater on the ice.

Konstantin’s tone shifts, “How are you?”

Marion glances over with dark desolate eyes. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve spent too much time in Tokyo.”

Marion scoffs, “I never wanted to be there in the first place.”

Konstantin’s lip twitches. “Paris suits you better.”

Marion detaches as she watches a father skate backwards holding his child’s hands, guiding her on the ice.

Konstantin frowns, “Do they give you enough time off between jobs?”

“I do not want it,” she responds tersely.

Konstantin clicks his tongue and inhales sharply, “Don’t let yourself get lost in it. They will not send someone to pull you out next time.”

Marion inhales deeply and squeezes her shoulder blades together as far as they’ll go then sighs. She chews on the inside of her lip, keeping her eyes on the father and child.

“Do you miss her?” she asks.

He nods, “Yes. But she can take care of herself. Villanelle is-“

“I meant your daughter,” Marion laughs, smirking over at him.

Konstantin’s face pales. “Have you seen her?”

“For moments.” Marion chuckles, “She is so stubborn.”

“How is she?” Konstantin asks. “Do they take care of her? Are they hurting her?” he presses.

Marion shakes her head, “They do not want to hurt her. They want her to keep learning. Hélène has the best tutors. Languages, sciences, maths. She is getting a better education in Paris than she was here in Moscow.” She watches the blade of a young woman’s red skate, captivated by it as it carves into the ice. “I hear she is ready to learn new skills soon.”

Konstantin sways and tightens his grip on the railing, his heart palpitating painfully.

“She is too young.”

“The younger you start the better.” Marion leans off the railing and steps around Konstantin. He turns with her keeping her in his line of sight. “That is the problem with Villanelle. She knew too much freedom before they decided to recruit her, and you went and got her. It will be easier for Irina this way.” She circles to the other side slowly. “If it is the only life you know, it starts to become part of you. The more you do it the easier it comes. It feels natural. You make less mistakes and never have to think twice.”

She leans her back against the railing and momentarily locks eyes with a tall man as he walks past on the sidewalk. He quickly diverts his eyes.

“You create and become this new version of yourself,” Marion continues, “perfecting each part, until you cannot imagine life without it. It is impossible to tear yourself away.”

Konstantin grimaces and shakes his head. He leans his arms on the railing and hangs his head in his hands.

“She was supposed to finish school, supposed to do something meaningful.”

Marion turns sharply. “She chose this, Konstantin. Everyone always has a choice. Irina decided her future.”

Konstantin’s heart thumps faster as he fights through waves of anguish.

“And she is so eager to learn.” Marion snickers, “What is more exciting is that I get to train her.”

Konstantin runs his hands over his head, tormented by Marion.

“Why? Why do you do this, why are you telling me this?”

“What? You are not happy to hear that she is doing well? Exceeding?”

“I wanted to protect her!” he snaps then sighs tiredly, “I tried.” He stifles tears, “She is too good inside.”

Marion’s eyes flicker with rancor. Her voice shifts to a lower unforgiving timbre.

“If enough bad happens to you it does not matter if you were ever good. The darkness will make its way inside of you and latch on to every part of you until it is the only thing that you feel, the only thing that you see. There is nothing else.”

“You could have gotten out when you were younger, but you didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You wouldn’t.”

“No,” Marion snaps. “Do you know why?”

Konstantin’s heart pumps harder. He focuses on his breathing.

“Because I want to be like this. I like the way it feels. I crave it all the time.”

“Marion-”

“It is that moment, when you can see it in someone’s eyes. Like you are snuffing out a candle and the flame flickers smaller and smaller, until you are the last thing that they see. It is like…” she struggles to find the words, “like you rob the air from them, and take it as your own.”

Konstantin frowns and looks down, not wanting to hear these words from her.

“That feeling. It is so small, fleeting. You have to search for it every time because it is gone before you can even hold it.” Her eyes pierce into him as she laughs lightly, “I would I do it over and over and over again, if that meant I got to have it, just a little bit longer.” She clenches her jaw, “It is never enough.”

He looks at her with worried eyes. “There are other ways-”

“No!” Her head tics. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, wincing and shakes it off. Her voice lifts. “I do not want to stop. That is what makes me so different from Villanelle.”

She puts a hand on Konstantin’s face and smiles but it doesn’t come close to reaching her vacant eyes.

“Hélène is handling her for the time being. She wants you to rest your heart.” She pats his cheek softly, “You will need it.”

Konstantin slumps against the railing.

“Why you make me come here?”

Marion shrugs with one shoulder, “Because I can.”

She slips a postcard from her leather jacket and flips it to show Konstantin.

Moscow.

Konstantin’s face washes out with fear as his heart drops.

Marion chuckles, “Don't be scared. It is not you.” She returns the postcard to her jacket then grabs her matte black helmet. “Do not do anything without thinking. She will not kill you. She will just make you more miserable than you already are.”

“Tell my daughter I love her. Please,” Konstantin implores with a weak grin.

“If you do what you are told, you might get to tell her yourself.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
[Danger – Unloved]  
Graham shuffles forwards and backwards then side to side on the fencing piste getting prepared for a friendly bout. He’s wearing a white fencing jacket and breeches with tall white socks.

Graham tries to get a match in before work at least three times a week, lately it’s been closer to one.

He stretches out his arms a few times then wields his épée, brandishing the sword and moving it in a figure-eight motion to loosen up his shoulder then twirling it a bit faster to warm up his elbow and wrist. Feeling properly warm, he steps onto the en garde line and practices attacks, quickly lunging off the line and accelerating forward at a shadow opponent. He repeats this several times making small adjustments in his footwork and his swings of the épée.

Another fencer enters from the far side of the arena also wearing customary white fencing attire, including a mask. They carry a large blue sword sleeve slung over their shoulder to their bench, unzipping it to reveal a foil, a sabre, and two different styles of épée.

“Good morning,” Graham greets cheerily. 

The fencer nods at him once then dances gloved fingers across the grip of each sword deciding which to select.

Graham grins as he swipes his épée swiftly through the air.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d be getting a bout in today or not.”

The masked fencer pauses and looks up at him as he practices a thrust, quickly stepping off the line. They slide an épée out of the carrier and whip it around speedily with their wrist.

Graham notices the choice of weapon. “Ah yes, thought we’d go full-body today. Lower attacks keep me honest with my footwork.”

The fencer holds up the épée and nods enthusiastically then slashes the air with the sword.

“I’ll give you some time to warm up,” Graham says with a smile.

He practices his lunges off the line while his opponent shuffles forwards and backwards a few times, more spring in their step. They swing the weapon in fast fluid strokes and step with athletic skill and speed, practicing only a few more thrusts then getting into a ready stance at the en garde line.

“Already fit to start?” Graham asks, surprised by the quick readiness.

“I don’t need much,” Villanelle responds, her voice concealed by a Cockney accent in a higher register.

Graham furrows his brow. “Oh, I don’t believe we’ve sparred together before?”

“I’m just getting back into it,” Villanelle explains smoothly.

“Ah.” Graham does a final practice lunge.

“So you’ll have a leg up,” Villanelle jests.

Graham chuckles, “We’ll see about that.”

He walks back to his bench as Villanelle stealthily removes the point of the épée to expose a very sharp spike. He slides on his mask and gets into a ready stance on his en garde line.

“I typically start with a few practice assaults before getting into a scored bout.”

Villanelle nods, “You call it out.”

“En garde. Prêts? Allez.”

Villanelle and Graham both lunge off their lines. Graham attacks first and Villanelle parries it easily. He remises and thrusts the épée hitting her in the hip.

They recover to the line.

Graham adjusts his stance. Villanelle flexes her muscles.

“En garde. Prêts? Allez.”

This time Villanelle thrusts first. Graham parries and ripostes. She parries and stop-thrusts. He shuffles back dodging it.

They stay light on their feet.

Villanelle tries a feint-disengage attack but Graham reads her and lunges low hitting her in the shin.

Villanelle clenches her jaw.

They recover to the line.

“One more?”

“Sure.” Villanelle’s neck twitches under her mask.

“En garde.”

Villanelle tightens her hold on the weapon.

“Prêts? Allez.”

Forget tactics.

Villanelle charges at him fiercely throwing him off-balance. He tries his best to shuffle backwards while maintaining form but she advances too quickly. She drives the sharpened point of the épée into his chest where there is a small gap in coverage between the underarm protector and the jacket.

It just so happens to be on the left side near his heart.

Graham coughs and swings his weapon wildly smacking Villanelle in the ribs as she thrusts the sword in farther, feeling that the point didn’t impale deep enough to kill. He stumbles and falls on his back, the sword sticking out of his chest.

Villanelle stands over him and leans all her weight on it, stabbing it deeper into his body. He sputters and kicks his legs frantically, trying to bring his weapon up to hit her but his strength diminishes. He thrashes about on the ground and pulls desperately at the sword in his chest.

Villanelle grunts as she forces the épée as deep as it will go, Graham choking and gasping in air, trying to pull the sword out but it’s no use. His struggles slow to a stop then his head falls back against the ground.

Stark red blood leaks into his jacket spreading rapidly across the white fabric.

Villanelle stands up leaving the sword stuck in him. She tilts her head to the side and looks down at his masked face.

“Hm,” she utters. “This is new.”

She kneels down and slips off his glove to check his pulse. There isn’t one.

Villanelle grabs his épée from the ground and steps onto the en garde line.

“En garde,” she announces in a husky voice. “Prêts? Allez.”

She lunges off the line doing her best to mimic proper form then she breaks it and starts laughing hard, throwing her head back really getting a kick out of herself. She takes a breath to regain composure then heaves the sword behind her and slides her mask off, running a hand over the loose strands of hair and slicking them back down.

“Stupid sport.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
[Why Not – Unloved]  
Eve treads into the Bitter Pill to find all the moving boxes gone. There’s nothing left. It’s as if an investigative journalism group was never there.

A crunching noise comes from Jamie’s dim office. Eve walks towards the door squinting in the dark, noticing the glow of a computer screen as she gets closer.

She stops in the doorway.

Bear looks up from his laptop, crumbs from Wotsits fall down his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eve laughs.

“What are _you_ doing?”

She slips her bag off her shoulder. “I need your help with something.”

“I don’t know how much help I can be considering there’s nothing left in here.”

He pops a few cheesy Wotsits in his mouth.

“I just need you, maybe your computer.” She looks around, “Where are the lights?”

“Left of the door.”

Eve flicks them on. They both cringe from the harsh brightness. She turns off one set.

“Why were you sitting in the dark?” she asks with a chuckle.

“I’m watching a movie,” he says between chews.

“You came all the way here just to watch a movie?”

“If I come here I feel like I’m being more productive than if I watch it at home.”

Eve shrugs, “Eh.” She sits next to him.

He quickly minimizes the window.

Eve raises her brows, “Oh? Do I even want to know what kind of movie that was?”

Bear shrinks down, embarrassed. He opens the window back up.

 _Transformers_ is paused on the screen.

Eve laughs hard. “Thank God it wasn’t some weird fetish porn.”

Bear smiles awkwardly.

“How much do you know about hacking phones?” she asks.

“Uh, well. Not much really.”

“Haven’t you been the one doing all the programming and stuff?”

“I’ve been entering the commands, but I haven’t done much more than that honestly.”

Eve frowns, “Oh.”

“Kenny coded all the programs. Cracking phones and hard drives, tracking locations, accessing accounts, retrieving records...”

Eve slumps against the wall.

Bear licks the cheese dust from his fingers. “He was a lying candy thief but he really did know his way around computers.”

“Tell me about it.” Eve rolls her eyes then looks over at him, “Do you have any more of those?”

They walk back into the dark and empty office. It feels a lot bigger with nothing there.

Eve takes a bite of an Aero bar while Bear has another bag of Wotsits.

They sit back against their wall.

“Okay.” Eve chews, “So, basically Kenny was able to get into any device he wanted. He could look up anyone’s location, hack into CCTV cameras, dig through all sorts of records...” She takes another bite of chocolate. “Do you think it’s possible to hack into a phone and record audio? Or video even?”

“Probably.” Bear munches on his Wotsits. “But that’s got to be more involved than tracking locations.”

“But it’s possible?”

He shrugs, “Yeah. I bet Kenny would have figured out how to do it.”

“Maybe he has a program for it somewhere?”

They crunch in unison.

“Do you think Audrey would know?” Eve asks.

“How to hack a phone you mean?”

“No, I mean,” Eve pauses, “well does she?”

“She’s a bit techie but I don’t think she’d know much about this, no.”

“What can she do, where is she?”

“She got a job at Canonical as an office assistant.” He chews, “And she’s more techie like with graphic design and web development.”

Eve grunts, disappointed. She bites off another piece of Aero bar as Bear shoves a handful of cheesy puffs in his mouth.

“What about Jamie?” Eve asks. “Would he know?”

“He’s the worst with computers out of all of us,” Bear explains. “Can hardly connect an HDMI cord and work PowerPoint.” He crunches, “What’s this all about anyway?”

Eve sighs, “The Twelve somehow got information about the operation and I think it’s because they figured out how to get into our phones and record our conversations.”

Bear swallows, “All of us?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know who, or when it started, or if that’s even what they’ve been doing.”

“Huh,” Bear mutters then eats another handful.

“Does anyone outside this office know what we’ve been doing?”

“No. Just me, Audrey, and Jamie.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?” Eve asks.

“No.”

“Did Audrey?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so?”

“Did Jamie? Did you ever overhear any of his phone calls?” Eve inquires, feeling like she’s getting closer to something.

“He yelled a lot but I never really listened, to be honest.”

Eve thinks. She rapidly drums her fingers on her leg.

“Where is he?”

“Out at a pub probably.”

Eve holds the chocolate bar in her mouth as puts up her hair. “Can you pull up the map on your laptop?”

Bear grumbles, “Someone else has got to learn how to do this.”

He starts up the tracking program and expertly types in the serial numbers. Eve glances over at him impressed.

“I memorized them after the fourth go.”

The map is harder to read on his small screen.

“Okay. Now…” Eve leans in analyzing the screen.

Bear looks at her. “Now what?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping I’d get an idea just looking at it.”

They stare at the bright screen.

Eve rubs the back of her neck. “Zoom in on London.”

Bear clicks on the keyboard and scales the map from Europe all the way down to London.

Eve creases her brow and narrows her eyes leaning in father.

She notices something.

She looks off to the side, her eyes darting around as she calculates.

“Eve?”

She looks back at the screen. “Zoom in more.”

Bear types.

Eve scoffs under her breath.

Bear counts the dots on the screen then glances over to her.

“Do you know those places?”

Eve stands up, “No.”

“That doesn’t sound like you don’t.”

Eve throws her bag over her shoulder and heads for the door.

"Oh," she turns abruptly, “Jazz dies, Sam kills Megatron with the Allspark, Optimus and Bumblebee make it to the end and… I forget what happens with the girl.”

Bear frowns, “Hey.”

She shrugs, “The rest aren’t worth watching. Quit while you’re ahead,” she calls on her way out, striding through the dark office.

\--------

**MOSCOW**  
[It's Not You, It's Me – Unloved]  
Marion strides down an alley behind a five-star restaurant. She’s wearing a black parka with a white dress shirt tucked into black slacks, her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She keeps her head low as she jogs up a small flight of stairs to the back entrance, shrugging off her parka and hanging it on the railing then throwing open the heavy metal door.

The restaurant is busy inside. Chatter, knives scraping across plates, and clinking glasses reverberate around the space.

Marion slinks down the hallway towards the dining area. The kitchen doors swing open on her right as a young female server dressed in the same white shirt and black slacks flies out the door clearly in a rush to assist her table. Marion grabs the back of her collar and pulls her down the hall.

She slips her arm around the young woman’s throat locking her in a chokehold, squeezing her bicep tight as she clamps her free hand over the woman's mouth.

Marion drags her down the hall and around the corner towards the staff break room, the woman kicking her feet in protest and flailing her arms wildly behind her, gripping Marion’s forearm and pulling at. Marion constricts her arm tighter crushing the woman’s windpipe, choking her out then she swiftly pulls a short blade knife from her pocket and stabs it repetitively into the woman’s chest, careful not to splatter any blood on her own white dress shirt.

She tosses the woman’s heavy body forward off of her sending her tumbling to the ground. She glares as she catches her breath for a moment then she slips the knife inside the waistband of the woman’s slacks.

She peers around the corner.

A young male server carries a tray loaded with dirty dishes back into the kitchen.

No movement.

A young woman pushes open the doors holding a tray of steaming hot food straight from the oven.

Marion waits until her instincts alert her it’s safe to go.

The young male server exits the kitchen and returns two empty serving trays to the stand outside the door.

Time to move.

Marion grabs the lifeless woman by the ankles and quickly drags her body down the hall, tugging the woman’s bloody body along until it’s against the wall right outside the kitchen doors. She stands up straight and brushes down the front of her shirt then grabs a serving tray from the stand and strides into the dining area.

Vlad is dressed in a sharp black suit and tie and sits opposite a man wearing navy-blue. Their table is situated against the large windows at the front of the restaurant, cars and people bustling along the street outside.

Seemingly out of nowhere the loud crash and clatter of breaking porcelain echoes around the restaurant. Several people gasp.

Then the dining area hushes.

Everyone turns towards the sound, including Vlad, his companion looking over his shoulder to the kitchen. Marion slinks around tables making her way towards the front of the restaurant only two tables away. She slips a small pistol with a silencer on the end out of the waistband of her slacks then lowers the tray to her side, blocking the view of the gun from the man in navy-blue.

Another tray of plates is dropped, smashing into pieces on the ground.

Marion rapidly fires two shots at Vlad; blood sprays on the window as the frangible bullets rip nearly overlapping holes in his chest. She tucks the gun back into her waistband and innocently turns towards the kitchen as if her attention has just been drawn to the commotion like everyone else.

Vlad’s companion looks back over at him to find Vlad slumped forward with blood spilling on his shirt. He frantically glances around for the shooter but his eyes can’t pick anyone out.

Marion sets the tray on a table in front of a woman with icy blue eyes dressed in chic couture with a wink. The woman creases her brow and looks down at the tray then over her shoulder as Marion slips out the front doors.

She strides quickly down the sidewalk towards the end of the block of buildings.

Sirens go off in the distance and wail louder as they approach the restaurant. 

Marion rounds the corner and walks faster, keeping her head tucked down and towards the street. She makes it to the other entrance of the back alley then breaks into a jog.

She runs faster, her puffs of warm breath showing in the cold air as she jumps up a step and grabs her parka from the railing then slides it on and continues to run towards the street on the other side.

Sirens blare around the corner. An ambulance, fire truck, and police cruisers come to a stop at the front of the restaurant as bystanders gather outside, peering into the windows trying to get a look at what’s going on.

Marion approaches a man holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand, his gaze directed towards the direction of the sirens.

“ _Prostite, ser._ ”

He turns.

She jabs him straight in the nose whipping his head backwards. He instinctively clutches the helmet tighter. She throws a hook hitting him in the jaw and he staggers to the side, stunned. She grabs his jacket and pushes him towards the opening of the alley. He stumbles as she heaves him backwards.

The man turns and swings his helmet smacking her hard in the chin. She cries out. He tosses the helmet aside and puts up his fists, ready and looking for a fight.

Marion wipes her chin with the back of her hand not even bothering to check for blood, locking her menacing black eyes on him as she struts up closer. In a flash, she kicks the inside of his knee with serious force making him crumple to one side then swings her elbow down striking him between the shoulder blades twice dropping him to the ground. He hastily pushes himself up but Marion kicks him in the jaw with her heel. He grunts and smacks into the pavement.

She spins him over and punches him rapidly and repeatedly, growling as she throws punch after punch, completely pummeling him until his face is a bloody mess. She throws him on his back and watches his chest for breathing.

There’s no movement.

She whips out the gun and shoots him once between the eyes anyway then digs around his pockets for the keys.

Marion shakes out her hand then wriggles her fingers trying to get blood to flow to her throbbing knuckles. She tucks her ponytail into the back of her parka then scoops up his helmet from the ground, pulling it over her head and exiting the alley.

There’s a large crowd in front of the restaurant now. Police officers begin to block off the area with caution tape.

Marion straddles the red Ducati and slams her foot down on the kick start. It rumbles to life and she hits the throttle, the motorcycle revving stridently down the street as she speeds away from the chaos.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Eve raps on a front door, rattling it on the hinges. A low voice grumbles inside. Eve bangs harder.

“Aye, I’m coming!”

Jamie throws open the door.

“Eve.”

She shoves past him.

“Please, come in.” He tosses the door closed.

Eve pulls off her black beanie and shakes out her tousled curls, looking around his house.

“Need a drink?” he asks eyeing her. “I was about to finish the bottled Jameson I started into yesterday morning.” He scratches his head, “or was that last night? Huh. Now I can’t remember. I slept for a bit and uh,” he clears his throat, “here we are.”

He staggers behind Eve to the kitchen. She hesitates before following.

The kitchen is a mess with empty beer bottles and takeaway boxes everywhere. Dishes are piled in the sink and pots half-filled with God only knows what sit on the stove, sauce spattered about.

He grabs two glasses from the sink and rinses them out poorly then splashes a heavy pour of Jameson in one glass and slightly less in the other. He pushes it along the counter towards Eve.

He takes a long drink and sighs, “Hopefully that’ll ease the shakes a bit.”

Eve’s gaze is harsh as she scowls at him, ignoring the drink.

“Alright then.” Jamie pours her whiskey into his glass. “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.” He drinks. “Did you decide on what to do yet? About The Twelve.”

Eve scoffs, “If I told you they’d be the first ones to know right?”

Jamie stares at her. “So this isn’t a friendly visit for a drink then.”

Eve stalks up to him. “You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get to this point, what I’ve had to do, the amount of bullshit I’ve had to deal with.”

“I do know, Eve, actually,” he snaps. “You come to my office and take it over as your own command center, you use my employees, exploit our resources, and you even sleep in the damn place. You let it run your life.” He takes a long drink. “And then you drag other people into it because you can’t get over the fact that what you’re trying to do just isn’t possible.”

“I let it run my life?” Eve retorts. “You sided with them, after that there is no freedom. They own you. Whatever they want you to do you do it now, right?”

Jamie grinds his teeth.

“What did they even give you?” Eve shrugs and looks around the kitchen, “Money?”

“It’s always about money though, isn’t it? That’s the thing, it’s not really information that’s power.” He slugs back whiskey, “It’s money.”

“Oh, so you were willing to compromise an entire operation and possibly get people killed for what?”

“A house over my head! You wrecked the Bitter Pill and everything that came with it. You pulled me into this fucking mess. I never asked to be a part of it.”

“You knew Kenny worked for MI6. You saw what he was investigating on his computer but you never said anything did you? Never did anything about it. You were invested before I even came to you.”

“You bring out the worst in people, Eve, that’s what you do. You get inside their heads and make them think the way you want. You don’t give a damn about them.” He shakes his head, “Kenny was a kid for Christ’s sake.”

“I didn’t make him look into those accounts,” Eve responds. “He did that on his own knowing full well what the risks were.”

“But you didn’t listen to him, did you? Until it was too late. And you say you want to find out whoever killed him but you haven’t done that yet, because that’s not what you really care about. Is it?” He finishes his whiskey, “You can try to convince others, Eve, but I know you’re not doing this for anybody but yourself.”

“I am trying to find justice, for Kenny and for all the other people that-”

“No, you’re not!” Jamie cuts her off. “If you were trying to do that you wouldn’t be sleeping with an assassin!”

Eve sneers and shoves him hard with both hands. He smacks into the cabinets with a grunt. She grabs the glass from the counter and shatters it on his forehead.

“Jesus Christ, Eve!” Jamie yells clutching his head.

She grabs him by the shoulders and hurls him sideways into the other row of cabinets. He crashes into them, breaking the glass in his hand.

Eve grips his shirt and pulls his face close to hers. The gash in his head starts to bleed.

[We Are Unloved – Unloved]

“How much do they know?” she asks, her dark eyes unrelenting.

He groans and rubs his head. Eve slams him up against the cabinets.

“I only told them about the coordinates,” he admits with a frown.

Eve heaves him across the kitchen; he rams into the sink.

“How have you been giving them information?” she demands.

He shakes his head, “Eve just-”

She slips a Glock out of the back of her pants.

Jamie’s wide eyes lock on it. “Eve. This doesn’t have to-”

She whips him in the jaw with the grip spraying blood on the cabinets. He clutches to the sink trying not to fall.

“How?!” Eve yells.

He wipes the blood from his face and pushes himself up.

“They ask me and I tell them, that’s it!” he shouts back.

Eve sidearms the gun striking him in the temple. He knocks his chin on the counter then hits the ground, moaning and fumbling around before getting himself on his knees. She grips his collar and drags him up to his feet, his face wet with blood, one gash on his forehead, another by his eyebrow. He holds himself up by his elbow on the counter, dizzy and unsteady on his feet, wincing and trying to fight off the pain.

Eve pulls her arm back for another hit. He cowers and holds up his hand.

“That’s all it was!”

Eve swings through hitting him in the back of the head this time. He bangs into the cabinets then falls hard to the ground, barely able to brace his fall.

“How did they get into our phones?!” Eve demands, her voice ferocious.

He blinks trying to focus on Eve’s figure. “What?”

Eve yells losing her patience. She kicks him in the gut and he groans, huddled over, coughing until he gets his wind back. She paces around the kitchen with the gun in her hand as he grunts and leans on his side then pushes himself up against the cabinets. His eye starts to swell shut and the gash in his forehead bleeds heavily. He struggles to hold his head upright, woozy from the whiskey.

“Eve. I don’t,” he winces, “I don’t know anything about the phones.”

Eve spins around, her eyes completely untamed. She bends down and grabs him by the throat feeling the sticky blood on her fingers. He grunts and coughs.

“You don’t want to lie to me.”

Jamie cringes and shakes his head, “I’m not. I swear.”

Eve throws his head back against the cabinet releasing her grip on his throat. He groans in pain as his head smacks into the wood.

She stands and raises the gun with her right hand.

Jamie looks up at her with pleading eyes. “Eve. Please.”

“Tell me the truth!” Eve yells at him.

He coughs and shakes his head, “That is the truth.”

Eve clutches her left hand around the grip of the gun.

“Tell me!” she screams.

Jamie slumps against the cabinets and looks down. “Eve, you don’t have to do this. Please.”

Eve scowls completely overrun by her emotions. Her arms quiver but her hold on the gun is strong.

Jamie lifts his head to look at her, “Don’t be like her. Don’t be like Villanelle.”

Eve yells blocking out his words.

She pulls the trigger.

The bullet hits him in the shoulder; he yells.

Eve shoots again.

Then again.

Jamie howls. He clutches the entry wounds in his stomach and chest, blood gushing through his fingers, cringing and slumping over to see a bullet hole near his heart. He hacks and wheezes in shallow breaths that catch on each inhale and exhale as blood pours into his hand.

Eve watches as the life drains from him.

He sways and falls back into the cabinet grimacing from the agonizing pain that tears through him, his gasps becoming fewer and farther between as he slowly slides down to the side then collapses, hitting the floor with a thud, his eyes empty.

Blood soaks his shirt and puddles around him.

Eve breathes rapidly, her heart pounding hard and fast in her chest, her hands shaking but her knuckles white. She stares at the blood on the tile, watching as it seeps out farther, trying to slow her thoughts but there are too many too fast.

She furrows her brow and looks around the kitchen, exhilarated by all the blood and broken glass. She lets out a small laugh, then another, marveling at the gun in her hand, blood on the metal grip.

She turns and strides to the front door, leaving Jamie’s body slumped against the cabinets of his own kitchen, tossing the gun in her bag and slipping out, never once looking back.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Geraldine stirs minced carrots, celery, and onion with butter in a large frying pan on the stove. Carolyn glides into the kitchen going straight for the brandy in the large decanter. She grabs a glass from the cabinet near Geraldine, almost disregarding her, and sets it on the counter with a clank.

She sighs and contemplates before pouring.

Geraldine watches with intrigue as she tries to get a read on Carolyn.

“I’ve found a few flats for rent in Bristol,” she ventures hopefully.

Carolyn pours the brandy, taking a sizable sip then turning to Geraldine.

“Will you be making more trips there then?”

The mirepoix sizzles on the stove.

Geraldine furrows her brow, “I’ll have to, to get a look at the places.”

“And the crisis management position?”

“It’s crisis counseling.”

Carolyn shrugs. “Same thing.”

“No. It’s not. And I’m still waiting to hear back.” Geraldine stirs the vegetables. “I felt like the interview went well. I was nervous to start but once we got into more personal questions I think I was able to answer-“

“How much time have you been spending in Bristol?” Carolyn inquires coldly, studying Geraldine with uncaring eyes as she sips her brandy.

Geraldine focuses on the stove. “Well, I’ve been there four times. Twice for the interviews and two other times to look at flats.”

“Perhaps I’m unaware of how the interview process works, but eleven hours seems excessive. For a single interview.” She sips.

Geraldine turns to Carolyn with a creased brow, holding the wooden spoon firmly.

“What are you implying?”

“What have you really been doing, in Bristol?”

“Trying to find a job and a place to live. We are both miserable here.”

“Certainly that doesn’t require making international calls,” Carolyn responds, staring cold-heartedly as Geraldine glares back combatively.

[Unloved Heart – Unloved]

“You’ve been tracing my calls?” Geraldine asks in disbelief.

“You left me no choice.”

The mirepoix hisses in the frying pan.

Geraldine wields the spoon. “I can’t believe you’d do that. We’re family for God’s sake.”

“Yes,” Carolyn retorts. “Which is why I have such a hard time understanding why you’re still in contact with Konstantin.”

Geraldine’s shoulders drop, “How do you know-“

“Because I know, Geraldine. About all of it.”

Geraldine abandons the cooking vegetables and steps towards Carolyn.

“Do you know what he’s gone through because of all of this?”

“No. And I don’t care to,” Carolyn snaps then throws back the rest of the brandy.

“He can’t even see his daughter anymore and he’s nearly died, twice.”

The mirepoix starts to darken past golden brown.

Carolyn gazes absently out the window into the dark night, a slice of moon in the sky. “He was there,” she utters, “the day Kenny died.”

Geraldine gasps out, “What?”

“I can’t confirm it but intuition tells me he was responsible for Kenny’s death.”

“Oh my God,” Geraldine breathes out shakily. She has to lean on the counter for support.

Carolyn turns back to her, her demeanor antagonistic.

“I’m going to ask once more, and you’re going to answer me with the truth.”

Geraldine stares down blankly looking at nothing as her mind spins.

“What have you actually been working on, in Bristol?”

Geraldine doesn’t look up.

“How much have you told them, Geraldine?”

Geraldine clenches her jaw. “I was never going to tell them the truth. That’s the difference between you and I. I’m loyal to family.”

“Loyal?” Carolyn rejoins. “You’ve been in communication with Konstantin-“

“I didn’t know!” Geraldine interjects as the vegetables turn black in the frying pan. “Do you really think I would have been willing to help him had I known?!”

She pushes off the counter, clutching the spoon.

“I have no idea what you’re truly capable of, Geraldine.”

“Being your daughter, I think I’m capable of anything. Lying, manipulation, deceit,” she sneers at Carolyn, smoke starts to rise from the stove. “Do you know what I’ve learned on my own, however?”

Carolyn’s clasp on her glass is fierce.

“Sometimes it’s good to express emotions, to deceive,” Geraldine continues. “Sometimes that can be even more cunning than withholding them.”

Carolyn hurls her glass on the ground shattering it. Shards of glass skate across the wood.

“You shouldn’t have gotten yourself involved in something you know nothing about!” she shouts, losing her temper.

Smoke pours from the frying pan.

“Are you really that surprised I’d end up here eventually?” Geraldine throws up her hands, “it’s everywhere around me!”

Carolyn scoffs, “What were you thinking? That you’d somehow be able to contribute to-”

“You don’t even know, do you? That’s how absent you are from my life!”

“What do you want, Geraldine?!”

“What does anyone ever really want?” Geraldine shouts up at the ceiling. “Power over someone who has control over them!”

The fire alarm screeches.

Neither startle.

And neither go for the stove.

They stand there with the fire alarm roaring, both iron-willed and refusing to cede first.

“For God’s sake, Geraldine.” Carolyn rushes to the stove crunching over broken glass and seizes the pot then heaves it into the sink with a loud clangor of metal on metal.

She leans over the sink clutching to it as Geraldine tosses the spoon on the counter then storms out of the kitchen shaking her head. Carolyn turns, ready for a second attack but finds the kitchen empty, the flames of the burner flickering on the stove.

\--------

**LONDON**  
Villanelle leans against the counter in her kitchen, her blonde hair still damp from a shower and tossed messily to the side. All she’s got on is a crimson kimono with a gold dragon on the back. She holds her phone above her head with both hands looking up at it as it rings.

No answer.

She frowns and calls Eve again.

Eve hustles up the stairs.

Villanelle lowers the phone with a grin. “Finally. I thought you died or something.”

Eve throws down her purse and pulls off her beanie then she unzips her jacket, sliding it off and leaving it on the floor, slinking towards Villanelle. She smirks and eyes Eve up and down, setting her phone down behind her.

“Did you miss me?” she grins smugly.

Eve takes Villanelle’s face and kisses her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her hips into hers. Villanelle sighs out and caresses Eve’s cheek then takes a handful of curls, wrapping her other arm around Eve and holding her tightly, pulling their bodies into one another as Eve kisses her fervently, slipping her hand under the kimono and running it up her chest then around her neck.

Villanelle is almost too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice.

She pulls away and pushes Eve back by her hips, creasing her brow and looking into Eve’s unrestrained eyes.

[Tell Mama – Unloved]

“Is that your blood or someone else’s?”

Eve furrows her brow at Villanelle then her eyes find the faint red smudges on Villanelle’s neck and cheek. Her edges soften some.

Villanelle’s eyes darken and elevate. “Did you kill someone without me?”

Eve leans away.

Villanelle sighs out a laugh, “Eve.”

Eve looks down at her hands just now noticing the dark bloodstains on her fingers. She glances back up at Villanelle.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” Villanelle asks, her eyes inquisitive.

Eve shakes her head slowly, “No.”

Villanelle raises her brows, “Not even who?”

Eve shakes her head and keeps her eyes trained on Villanelle’s.

Neither move.

Villanelle eyes her curiously. “How do you feel?” she asks.

Eve’s eyes flicker, “Electrified.”

Villanelle lets out a breathy laugh and leans off the counter, gently taking Eve’s face and running her thumb across her jaw.

“You are so surprising,” she grins then licks and bites the corner of her lower lip as she looks down at Eve’s mouth.

Eve leans away. “You like me when I’m like this?” Her voice cuts into Villanelle.

“All the time,” Villanelle exhales and grins.

She leans in for a kiss but Eve pulls away from her. She traces her fingers over the blood on Villanelle’s neck making her swallow then runs her thumb down her jaw and underneath her bottom lip, down her chin, then slipping her hand around Villanelle’s throat and holding it securely, staring into her darkly thrilled eyes.

She feels Villanelle submit.

Eve steps away from her, letting her hand graze down her chest as she glides to the kitchen sink. Villanelle scrunches her brow, biting her lip and flaring her nose as she watches Eve, bemused by her.

Eve scrubs the blood off her hands getting it from between her fingers. The sanguine tinted water runs over the blade of a steak knife then down the drain.

“How did you do it?” Villanelle asks carefully.

Eve doesn’t reply.

“Eve, you have to tell me something. This is a big moment for you, your first kill.” She shrugs and corrects herself, “First kill on your own.”

Eve focuses on her hands, watching the blood drip off as Villanelle waltzes around the flat, dancing almost, smiling wide with her face lit up.

“Should we open a bottle of wine? I will even drink it with you.” She laughs, “Eve, this is so exciting.” She glances over at Eve who watches her with a steely gaze. Her face drops, “Why are you not excited?” she pouts then stalks over, eying Eve impishly. “Do you know what this means?”

Eve turns the water off but her eyes never leave Villanelle’s.

“It means you can do it whenever you want now. After the first kill, the rest are so much easier.”

Eve keeps the blade in her periphery.

Villanelle laughs in delight, “This is amazing.” She slinks up to the counter swiveling her hips, keeping her lascivious eyes locked on Eve. “I didn’t know how long it would take you to do it. But I knew you would. You have always had it in you, Eve, you just needed a little-“

Eve snatches the knife and hurls it at Villanelle. She turns sharply to the side, ducking out of the way. It clamors on the ground behind her.

She laughs, thrown off, “Wow.” She turns back to Eve with a sliver of enmity in her eyes. “I didn’t know you wanted to play rough.”

Eve holds Villanelle’s gaze as she stalks around the counter like a cheetah deciding how it’s going to pounce on its prey. Eve’s body tenses as a fire blazes through her. She wants Villanelle.

But she wants to be in control more.

She faces Villanelle as she slinks up to her, holding her ground. They stand inches apart, staring into each other. Villanelle gently slides her hand around Eve’s throat, fluttering her fingers as she clamps down then leaning in and brushing her lips against Eve’s, squeezing her fingers a little tighter, feeling Eve’s pulse.

Her lips quiver but she doesn’t kiss Eve. She leans into her ear and exhales a warm breath.

“Tell me how you did it.”

Eve shuts her eyes and turns away. Villanelle’s nose brushes against her jaw as she pulls back to look into Eve’s eyes.

Darkness peers into darkness.

Eve slowly places her hand on Villanelle’s around her throat, interlacing their fingers. Villanelle narrows her eyes.

Eve squeezes harder, and harder, and harder.

Villanelle releases her hold and pulls away, furrowing her brow, not understanding Eve at all. Eve clutches her by the hips and throws her up against the counter, taking her by surprise. Villanelle laughs, amused by Eve’s boldness. Eve presses her hips then her whole body against Villanelle, making her breath shallow.

Eve waits for Villanelle to kiss her.

But she does not. 

She strokes Villanelle’s cheek over the smudge of blood wiping it away then hovers her lips over Villanelle’s.

“What? You don’t want me?”

Villanelle sighs and grins, “No. You’re just-”

“Like you, baby.”

Eve kisses her hard then slips one hand around her throat while she loosens the tie around her waist with the other, letting the silky fabric fall open.

\--------

**POLAND**  
[Killer Shangri-Lah – Pshycotic Beats]  
Niko sits in an electric wheelchair in a cozy living room, a large bookshelf in the corner and more books piled on every surface available. A half-completed puzzle sits on a card table near the window that looks out to the snowy dirt road.

A fire crackles in the woodstove.

A nurse wearing purple scrubs sits on the small couch next to Niko, the name “Bianka” on the tag on her shirt.

They speak in Polish.

“You did well with your vocal exercises today,” she smiles.

Niko grins and holds up his thumb. “Pro-gress,” he rasps.

“Rysia will be here soon. She’ll help you with physical therapy if you’re feeling up for it?”

He nods then types on the keypad of his Lingraphica tablet, no wedding band on his finger.

“Rysia?” the computerized voice asks.

“Oh, Emilia has been sick since yesterday. I think Rysia normally works with patients in the city.”

Niko nods.

“You know how shift changes can be.”

He smiles.

There’s a soft knock.

Bianka stands, “Must be her.”

She disappears down the hall to the front door and comes back with another woman.

Marion.

Her hair is French braided in a single braid and her eyes are colored green by contacts. The purple bruise on her chin shows somewhat through concealer.

She slips a small backpack off her shoulders. “Good evening, Niko,” she greets warmly in Polish. “My name is Rysia.” Bianka smiles at her.

Niko nods then types. “Nice to meet you, Rysia,” the computerized voice says.

Marion smiles and sits across from him. “I’m covering for Emilia. She has food poisoning.”

Niko types. “That is terrible.”

Marion laughs lightly, “It is.”

Bianka throws her bag over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She smiles at Marion, “Have a good night.”

Niko smiles. “Good-night,” he rasps out.

Marion grins, “Emilia told me you have improved so much in speech therapy.”

Niko smiles and nods, “Get-ting bet-ter.” His voice is gruff and hoarse, but the syllables come through.

“That is so good!” Marion praises.

She opens her bag and pulls out some papers with physical therapy exercises on them.

“How are you feeling about these?”

“Stron-ger.”

“You have to show off for me. I only hear about you, so I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Niko croaks a laugh and smiles. “Read-y to go.”

Marion laughs and holds up a paper, “You want to start with this one?” She shuffles the papers. “Or this one? Emilia told me it’s your least favorite, but sometimes that is the best place to start.”

Niko grins and holds up his thumb.

“Okay.” Marion gets up from the couch, “I was hoping you’d agree.”

She pulls the fluffy pillow off the large lounger chair without arms and tosses it on the couch.

“Your arms are strong enough for this?”

Niko nods with a grin.

“Okay, if you say so.” She flashes him a warm playful smile.

Niko gets the wheelchair as close to the lounger as possible and Marion unlocks the armrest, lowering it out of the way.

She stands behind the lounger bracing it. “Let me see it.”

Niko places his hands firmly on the seat of the wheelchair and takes a breath, then pushes himself up off the seat an inch. His arms quiver. He slowly and carefully slides his body over to the lounger, straining hard to control his shaky arms. He grimaces flexing all his muscles as he moves methodically. 

He hovers halfway between the wheelchair and the lounger huffing hard through his nose.

“You are almost there,” Marion cheers him on, slipping a needle out of the side pocket on her pants.

Niko smiles as he grunts. He attentively moves a hand from the wheelchair to the seat of the lounger and continues carrying himself over, getting most of his body over the lounger then warily moving his other hand.

Slowly and diligently, he makes it all the way onto the lounger.

He pulls his legs over then sighs and falls back into the chair, out of breath and exhausted from that single exercise. He closes his eyes trying to catch his breath.

Marion pulls the cover off the needle with her teeth then sticks him in the thigh and quickly injects the contents of the syringe. His body relaxes completely against the chair, the rise and fall of his chest slowing, then his head gently falls back.

Marion feels his carotid for a pulse but doesn’t find one.

“ _C’est dommage._ ”

She tosses the physical therapy papers in the wood stove and watches as the flames spread across the pages. The blaze reflects in her black devoid eyes.

She slips her phone out of her pocket and dials a number.

She keeps her eyes on the fire. “ _La moustache est partie._ ”

\--------

**LONDON**  
Villanelle lies on her back panting as she stares up at the ceiling with fiery eyes, Eve her side next to her breathing heavily herself. She admires Villanelle’s body in the dark light.

Villanelle looks over at her and smirks. “You should kill people more often if that is what you are like after.”

Eve laughs.

Villanelle turns to Eve and nestles her body up closer, running her fingers up Eve’s arm then tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“You’re not going to tell me anything?”

Eve gazes at her with quieted eyes. “Not right now.” 

They stare at one another trying to get a sense of how the other is feeling. Villanelle continues tracing circles; Eve flutters her fingers under Villanelle’s.

Villanelle scoots closer. “Roll over,” she instructs, nuzzling her head into Eve.

Eve grunts and complies, rolling on her back. Villanelle rests her head on Eve’s chest. She brushes hair off Villanelle’s neck as she settles into position, wrapping one leg over Eve’s and clutching to her side, shimmying around until she’s comfortable.

Eve holds her in her arms, absentmindedly running her thumb over the scar on her bicep.

[Forever Unloved – Unloved]

They lie there together trying to forget the rest of the world and their responsibilities in it.

“Do you want to know how I got that?” Villanelle asks after a moment.

Eve furrows her brow then glances at the jagged mark under her thumb. It stands out against Villanelle’s otherwise flawlessly smooth skin. She traces her fingers over it once then places her hand on it and tenderly strokes the inside of Villanelle’s arm with her thumb.

Villanelle’s eyes look someplace faraway. “It was in Romania. A politician. He stabbed me with a pair of scissors while I electrocuted him with a hairdryer.”

“Jesus,” Eve mutters.

Villanelle’s eyes detach. “By the time I got sutures and a needle it was so swollen.” She grimaces remembering, “It was hard to push the stitches through.”

“You stitched it yourself?” Eve asks incredulously.

“Dasha had to finish them. That is why it looks so bad.”

Eve furrows her brow in concern and holds Villanelle tighter. She closes her eyes and sinks father into Eve, letting out a sigh.

Eve notices other marks on Villanelle’s body. A nick on the outside of her knee, a faint incision on her back, a small set of scuffs on her ribs.

She caresses Villanelle’s cheek. “God, I had no idea.”

“There is so much you don’t know, Eve,” Villanelle says, listening to Eve’s heart flutter faster.

She rests her chin on Eve’s chest and looks up at her, then smoothly pounces and swings her leg all the way over Eve, straddling her. Her eyes are rapacious as she grins down at Eve wanting to devour her.

Eve grabs Villanelle’s hips and squeezes her grinning back. Villanelle drops down and kisses her on the lips, jaw, neck.

Eve grins then pushes against Villanelle’s hips, laughing, “Wait, wait, hold on.”

Villanelle doesn’t stop kissing her so Eve squeezes her hips harder. Villanelle groans and pulls away, holding herself just above Eve.

Eve stares up at her, blonde tresses falling. “Does Hélène have other assassins?”

Villanelle scrunches her face, disappointed and vexed. “What? You want to talk about Hélène now? While I am on top of you?”

She stays inches above Eve’s face, raising her brows at her for an explanation.

“The Twelve sent some to follow me.”

Villanelle sighs and rolls her eyes. “Was it Marion?”

“You know her?”

Villanelle scoffs, “She is the worst.”

“Who is she?” Eve asks.

Villanelle sighs heavily. “Do you know what you are ruining right now?”

Eve stares at her. “Who is Marion?”

Villanelle groans exasperatedly and pushes up and off of Eve, falling on her side, not at all pleased. She deliberately looks away from Eve up at the ceiling.

“Another assassin. Hélène is her handler,” she explains. “I don’t know how long she’s been working for them.”

Eve rolls over, studying Villanelle for clues. “You think there are a bunch of kills out there that nobody has linked together yet?”

“Uhh yeah.” Villanelle turns to Eve. “You were too obsessed with me to even notice or think about anything else,” she smirks.

Eve’s eyes animate, “How many more assassins do you think there are?”

“There are so many places other than Europe, Eve, what do you think?”

Eve rolls away and looks up at the ceiling, stimulated by the idea that there could be many, many more. Her mind attempts to put together frantic thoughts.

Villanelle gazes at her, the outside lights shining through the window creating a silhouette of her figure.

She scoots closer, simpering at Eve, “No more work.”

She runs her hand across Eve’s hip and up her stomach. Eve smiles but is still lost in her thoughts.

“Eve,” Villanelle purrs, her voice silky as her hand travels to Eve’s chest.

Eve chuckles lightly but doesn’t look at Villanelle.

“Eve,” Villanelle tries again, her voice still silky but a little impatient.

Eve can’t break away from her thoughts.

Villanelle sighs then flings herself on top of Eve, pinning down her shoulders.

“What are you going to do now, hm?”

Eve laughs. She runs her nails across Villanelle’s back making her body quiver and her breath shake. Villanelle presses her hands on to the mattress, leaning down closer to Eve.

“We have to be very careful,” Eve whispers.

Villanelle sighs out a laugh and leans in. “I am always careful.” She kisses Eve. “It’s you I worry about.”

Eve grins and wraps her arms tightly around Villanelle. “We can’t make any mistakes.”

Villanelle kisses Eve’s jaw. “We won’t.”

“This is our one chance,” Eve murmurs then Villanelle kisses her. “Our only chance.”

Villanelle looks into Eve’s intense eyes. “I know.”

Eve looks back into earnest hazel eyes. “I really want it to work.”

Villanelle nods then leans in.

Her cell phone blares out of the blue making them both jump.

Their hearts race faster. Villanelle’s chest pitches. She tries to hide it as Eve exhales a held breath, releasing her tight grip leaving marks behind on Villanelle.

The ringer resounds around the flat. They look around waiting for what feels like an eternity for it to end.

Finally, it does.

Villanelle lets out a breathy laugh and bites her lower lip as she leans in.

Eve’s phone rings; they both flinch.

They gaze at each other, a small bit of dread in their eyes.

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have taken a TURN
> 
> Pour one out for: Graham, Vlad, Jamie, Niko, Irina’s mom, and also the server and the guy with the motorcycle that Marion fucked up
> 
> Thank you Google for helping me pretend to know about fencing (which is so fascinating and I still don’t understand)
> 
> Also I have nothing against the Transformers that was just the first movie that came to me. “Arrival To Earth” is one of my favorite movie soundtrack songs
> 
> Feedback is always welcome! (I’m curious if you listen to and like the music??)


	6. Are You Nervous?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolyn shares a cold hard truth with Eve; Hélène gives Villanelle a job that will bring her and Eve closer together or drive them apart; Irina proves her allegiance to The Twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting darker and softer at the same time, I have no idea how.
> 
> Only two more to go! I am not okay
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Sombre – Unloved  
> Her – Unloved  
> La La La – Unloved  
> Devils Angel – Unloved  
> If – Unloved  
> Moonlight Sonata – Ludwig van Beethoven  
> Mama – Unloved  
> Carnival – Unloved  
> Mosaic – Unloved  
> Silvery Moon – Unloved  
> Moonlight Serenade – Glenn Miller & His Orchestra  
> In The Mood – Glenn Miller & His Orchestra  
> Fail We May Sail We Must – Unloved  
> Sigh – Unloved  
> Damned – Unloved  
> Guilty of Love (Radio Edit) – Unloved  
> Bill – Unloved  
> Xpectations - Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: Are You Nervous?](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0wOF5XZ6pENqjZ6Zx50gAD)

**LONDON**  
Eve paces anxiously around a small stairwell, the floors and walls made of concrete making the space feel rather confined. She runs her hand through her wild curls as the unlocking of a door handle echoes. Carolyn treads down a flight of stairs.

“Eve. I wasn’t sure if I should check here or the storage room first.”

Eve sighs frustratedly. “The Bitter Pill was leaking information to The Twelve. They know we have a map of their devices and I think they know we’ve figured out how to confirm the actual coordinates.” She throws up her hands. “They could know everything by now.”

Carolyn narrows her eyes at Eve analyzing her comportment.

Eve shakes her head. “I don’t know how much Jamie was actually relaying to them.”

“Jamie?”

Eve nods gravely with dark eyes.

“You certainly made a dog’s dinner of that,” Carolyn remarks.

Eve creases her brow, mind racing.

“What?”

“Though you did manage come up with a permanent solution to the problem.”

Eve’s eyes darken further. “I was trying to figure out who was compromising our operation, something you can’t seem to bother yourself with.”

Carolyn doesn’t react to Eve’s slight.

“It’s not often that one kills their source after getting information from them.” Carolyn stares into Eve. “You won’t have someone to clean up after you forever, Eve.”

[Sombre – Unloved]

Eve clenches her jaw. Her heart thuds harder in her chest.

“You told me to find out how they were getting information," she snaps, "who was responsible for leaking it.”

“Yes, but you were the one who was insistent on The Twelve having access to our communications.”

Eve scowls in contempt, realizing Carolyn set up her.

“They never hacked our phones.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of it.”

Eve scoffs and looks around the empty stairwell, biting down on her lip.

“The official news headline will be ‘attempted burglary ends in homicide,’” Carolyn says, indifferent.

“You don’t even care,” Eve retorts, her eyes dark and vacant.

Carolyn glances up the stairs at the empty space.

“Well it was a bit undue, but I was not entirely shocked when I received the news.”

Eve’s body quivers and overheats in her black parka.

Carolyn looks at her. “You’ve been showing less restraint lately and have been, dare I say, unhinged, since Rome.”

Eve glares at her with fierce eyes, gritting her teeth.

“Since you went after Villanelle to her apartment in Paris really,” Carolyn goes on, unafraid to look Eve in the eye. “Or was it…before that?”

Darkness swells inside Eve.

“You don’t know anything about me," she spits. "Whatever you’ve gathered has been through someone else.”

“It’s one thing to witness a brutal murder, Eve, it’s another to be the cause. Did you think you could walk away without there being any repercussions? Twice?”

Adrenaline surges through Eve. Her heart races in her chest. Her blouse sticks to her skin, dampening with sweat.

“You’re not entirely innocent in this either, Carolyn. You have blood on your hands.” Eve stalks towards her. “I saw the coordinate at your house. Has it actually been you this entire time?”

“As much as you might want it to be me, it never has been and it never will be. I’m dedicated to this operation just as much as you are, if not more.” Carolyn shrugs.

Eve curls her lip. “Then I’m sure you have a logical explanation for why one of The Twelve’s devices is located at your home address.”

“It seems familial bonds are not strong enough to withstand betrayal.”

Eve scoffs, “You expect me to believe your empathetic daughter is involved with The Twelve?”

“She admitted it to me herself.”

Eve shakes her head vehemently, looks around at the gray cement as her body tenses.

She turns abruptly. “Why did you even pull me into this in the first place?”

“I suppose it’s time we got on with that.”

Eve locks her baleful eyes on Carolyn’s. Rage pushes against her seams.

“The Twelve have had a presence in Europe for many years, though under different organization and leadership. I’ve been aware of their existence but was never entirely sure of how they operated or what their ultimate goals were. Their increased activity in recent years suggested they were making moves towards their objective, rapidly.”

“You already knew?” Eve growls through her teeth.

Carolyn manages to stay centered.

“I’ve had some knowledge about their organization, yes. But what I really wanted to know was how difficult it would be to infiltrate and obtain intelligence, from the inside.”

Eve bites down on her lip. Her voice shakes with rage, “You used me.”

“I used you because you’re intuitive and intelligent. And relentless. You’d already started your own operation for intelligence on The Twelve. I only gave you the tools you needed to see it through.”

Eve’s entire body shakes. She clamps her jaw tight.

“Of course you were never really in it for the intel," Carolyn remarks. "That’s why it worked.”

Eve fumes, “You let me walk straight into this knowing about The Twelve the entire time?”

“You were already in it. Trying to find her.”

The thought of Villanelle both calms and ignites Eve at the same time. Carolyn carefully watches as she fights to stay in control.

“We’re at a point now where we have to move forward regardless of everything else that has happened.”

“You think I’m going to continue working with you on this?" Eve bites. "After what you just told me?”

“Well I don’t think you’re going to relent now. Especially after all you’ve done to get yourself here.” Carolyn shrugs. “Do you want it all to be meaningless?”

“You know, Carolyn, you kept trying to convince me that Villanelle was the psychopath but knowing the manipulation you’re capable of, I’m starting to question your mental state.”

“No one ever said this was going to be pain-free.”

“Yeah well no one ever told me I was only being used as a pawn.”

“Think of yourself more as a rook.”

Eve rests her forehead in her hands and clenches her jaw fighting off the rage.

“Try not to be too cross. You and Villanelle only seem to fuel each other in that state.”

[Her – Unloved]  
**KILLING EVE**

Eve shoves open the door to the office where she, Kenny, Elena, and Bill first started the chase on Villanelle. The bulletin board where the map and victim profiles once hung is empty. In fact, there’s nothing hung on any of the walls. The desks are all pushed to the side of the room to clear out space and computers have all been removed, several storage file boxes take their place. A lone metal desk lamp sits on the table beneath the bulletin board with three office chairs facing it. Villanelle sits in the center.

Eve pauses when she sees Villanelle. It feels surreal for her to sitting there in the room where it all started. She steps inside slowly, glancing around taking it all back in, memories coming to her. Villanelle grins to one side, her eyes lightening upon seeing Eve. Her hair is half-up half-down, the top double French braided into a messy bun. Eve treads over to the chair on Villanelle’s right but doesn’t sit. She looks down at Villanelle with a serious face and dark contemptuous eyes, heatedly shrugging off her coat.

Villanelle scrunches her brow. “What happened?”

Carolyn strides into the room. Villanelle’s eyes jump over to her.

“Ah, she’s already here,” Carolyn says.

Villanelle flicks her eyes back at Eve, trying to get a read on her. They both hear the door open but their eyes remain on each other.

“Eve Polastri,” Marion says haughtily.

Eve tenses at the sound of her voice. Villanelle gives her a displeased but reassuring look then trains her eyes on Marion as she slinks close to Eve, looking her up and down with coquettish eyes.

“That is a good color on you,” she smirks.

Villanelle clenches her jaw.

Only she is allowed to say that about Eve’s emerald-green blouse.

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice says from the door.

Eve creases her brow and looks over.

“Elena? Wh-, what are you-“

“Carolyn wrangled me back into this nightmare.”

“I bet she didn’t have to try too hard,” Eve chuckles.

Elena smiles and rolls her eyes, slipping off her backpack as she heads for the front of the room. Eve sits next to Villanelle who looks at her inquisitively with raised brows.

“She helped me track you down in Paris." Eve waves. "You almost killed her once.”

“The fact that you two are now in bed together really sets me off a bit. I’ve never drank so much wine.” Elena pulls three heavy files from her backpack and sets them on the table, sliding one over to Carolyn.

“Wait, you’re leading this?” Eve asks.

“Partly,” Elena replies.

Eve furrows her brow at her and grins, surprised and amused. Marion rolls her eyes at the nonsense banter and drops a thick folder on the table in front of Carolyn.

“Your report. Cross-referenced with additional sources.”

“Resourceful indeed.”

“What?” Eve retorts, irate. “She works for you?”

Marion chuckles at Eve. Villanelle’s eyes track every movement she makes.

“Margaux occasionally gathers intelligence for the DGSE,” Carolyn responds casually.

Eve scoffs, entirely flustered, nothing making sense anymore.

“Margaux?” Villanelle asks with a raised brow.

“Margaux, Marion,” she shrugs, “Oksana, Villanelle.”

Both Villanelle and Eve tense hearing her name. Elena peers over.

“Villanelle rolls off the tongue better,” Marion flicks her eyes at Eve, “don’t you think?”

Eve scowls and runs a hand through her curls as Marion sits on the other side of Villanelle. They glare at each other like two lions facing off. Elena looks worriedly between the three of them, hoping one doesn’t snap.

Carolyn slides off her glasses and glances over at Elena.

“Shall we start then?”

Elena’s heart starts to beat faster.

“Uh, yeah.”

She takes a breath to steady herself then turns to face Eve, Villanelle, and Marion. Their dark eyes lock onto her. She swallows.

Marion stretches her legs out then crosses her arms and leans back in her chair appearing very bored. Villanelle shifts around then clasps her hands in her lap trying to look like a good student. She sniffs and sits up straighter. Eve crosses her legs politely as if by habit and nods slightly at Elena for encouragement.

“Elena?” Carolyn asks finally.

“Er yeah, sorry. It’s just a bit nerve-wracking being in a small room full of murderous women.”

Eve blinks, trying to act casual. Villanelle raises her brows and sucks in a breath. She bites her lower lip then blows it out. Marion picks her black painted nails nonchalantly.

Carolyn looks over at Elena with a blank expression.

Elena swallows then clears her throat. “Right, so. While you three have been running around making a bloody mess of everything, the rest of us have been organiz-“

“Who’s us?” Eve cuts her off.

“Don’t interrupt her,” Villanelle chides.

Marion bites a nail trying to stifle a laugh.

Carolyn regains control of the room. “There is a wide array of people from all across Europe contributing to this operation. Most of which you will never meet.”

Elena nods, “We’ve identified a good number of members of The Twelve, and have been able to confirm almost all of them.”

The interests Villanelle. “Members? Like me and her,” she nods at Marion who looks insulted that Villanelle could possibly group them together.

“Or members like _The_ Twelve?” Eve follows up.

“Both.”

Tension spreads across the room creeping its way into everyone. Elena and Carolyn exchange glances.

“Who are they?” Eve persists.

“I knew you’d be the first to ask that,” Elena grins.

Eve nods at her impatiently.

“But I can’t tell you.”

“What? Elena, what the hell?”

Elena shrugs, “I can’t. Really. I don’t even know who they are.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes and bites at a nail.

Carolyn addresses the room.

“No single person can have all the intelligence. It must be shared.”

“Unless it is you and Adalene,” Marion chimes in, snarky.

Villanelle and Eve look over at her, bitter that she knows something more than them.

“Not even she and I know,” Carolyn responds.

Villanelle keeps her gaze on Marion. “Who is Adalene?”

“I am sure you would like to know,” Marion smirks.

“Adalene is an old acquaintance at the DGSE.”

“Old acquaintance,” Eve mutters under her breath.

Marion scowls, annoyed Carolyn ruined her power play over Villanelle.

Elena jumps back into the conversation.

“We’ve just confirmed one of the last members of The Twelve Twelve. I can tell you that.”

Carolyn looks at Elena with intrigue. This will be news to her as well.

“These were sent over last night.”

Elena pins up pictures on the wall. First is Graham with the épée sticking out of his chest.

“Graham Wakeford. MI6 operative. Killed in a fencing accident in London.”

Eve glances over at Villanelle who shrugs and shakes her head trying to act as if she has no idea how that could have possibly happened.

Next is Vlad, slumped over in his seat at the restaurant, blood sprayed on the window.

“Vladimir Betkin. Worked for FSB and SVR. Shot with frangible bullets in a crowded restaurant in Moscow. Don’t know how one of you managed that.”

Carolyn’s face hardens.

Last are the bloody images of the server and the man with the motorcycle in Moscow.

“Katerina Pevstova and Fyodor Gusev. Civilians. Can’t quite figure out why they ended up dead, and brutally murdered too.”

Marion smirks and flicks her dark chilling eyes at Elena.

“Seems a little excessive,” Eve scoffs under her breath.

Marion leans in front of Villanelle to look over at Eve. “Do you choose to forget that she killed a child in Paris?”

“He would have killed himself if he saw what his face looked like,” Villanelle mutters.

Carolyn inhales a deep breath and releases it slowly at the front of the room.

Villanelle shrugs, “Plus Eve liked it.” She grins over at Eve who presses her fingers to her forehead. She slides her eyes over to catch Villanelle beaming smugly.

“The apple was a nice touch,” Elena comments.

Eve furrows her brow, mouth agape, looking at Elena in wonder.

How much does she know?

Carolyn takes over.

“Helen from-“

“Hélène?” Villanelle interrupts.

“No Helen.”

“You say it, Hélène,” Marion emphasizes the accents.

Carolyn sighs, “No. Helen.”

“Oh, uh…” Eve closes her eyes to think. She snaps, “From the treasury desk.”

Carolyn’s composure starts to slip. Elena has to carry on.

“Except that’s not all she does," she comments. "This pretty much confirms she’s part of The Twelve.”

Eve sits up straighter. "What?”

“Yeah, apparently MI6 is a breeding ground for liars and double-dealing snakes.” She glances over at Carolyn, “Sorry.”

Carolyn commands the room.

“Helen and I were in communication about the operation and had each talked with Graham and Vlad separately. She must have relayed their involvement to the other members of The Twelve, ultimately leading to their deaths.” She makes eye contact with Marion then Villanelle. “Though I’ve had a nagging suspicion for years, I only needed a way to verify it.”

Eve pieces all of it together.

“Wait, you were willing to let them die, just so you could prove it?”

“Yes. Just as you were willing to let Hugo die so you could chase after Villanelle.”

Villanelle chuckles proudly under her breath.

Carolyn glances at her. “And you killed a needless number of people only for Eve’s attention. You even acted upon a hit ordered on her.” Carolyn slides her eyes to Marion. “Need I even mention your background?”

Marion clamps her jaw and scowls with black eyes.

Elena eyes the three women nervously, wondering why the hell Carolyn is riling them all up.

Marion shrugs, “So that is it? Reviewing our kills?”

“You’ve each been assigned to teams-“

“I am on Eve’s team,” Villanelle interjects.

“Separate teams,” Carolyn states.

Eve glances over at Villanelle who pouts while Marion laughs at them.

“You’ll be debriefed further when you meet with them," Carolyn says simply then puts on her glasses and gathers up the dense files.

“Wait _that’s_ it?” Eve asks, looking to Elena.

Elena shrugs, “It doesn’t make sense to me either but I’ve just stopped asking questions.”

Marion gets up from her chair, annoyed at this waste of her time.

“Carolyn, seriously?" Eve stands, "That’s all you’re giving us?”

Carolyn shrugs, “Yes, for now.”

Eve seethes. “What was the point of bringing us here then?”

Villanelle raises a brow; Marion waits at the door.

“You were the one who called this meeting.”

“Yeah, with you and Villanelle.”

“Well. You were all in the area and the three of you know each other, so…” Carolyn shrugs, “killing several birds with one stone.”

Eve scoffs and grabs her jacket and purse, Villanelle standing abruptly. Eve pushes past Marion out the door, Villanelle following quickly behind her.

Eve fumes by the front entrance.

“Why are you being so angry?" Villanelle inquires. "We will get more information.”

Marion chuckles as she comes down the stairs.

“I hate to break up _les amoureux_ , but you are wanted in Paris.”

“Why are you even here?” Eve sneers.

Marion lets out a laugh. She looks to Villanelle, “I always thought you were the unstable one.”

“Oh, you know what-“

Villanelle puts her arm up against Eve’s chest. Marion smiles smugly as Villanelle glares at her.

“Don’t you need to go be someone else somewhere?” Villanelle snaps.

Marion raises her brow, “Don’t you?” Her eyes jump to Eve. She lets out a laugh, “Good luck with Hélène.”

\--------

**PARIS**  
[La La La – Unloved]  
Villanelle looks up at the front entrance of her old Paris apartment building. She’s wearing a black and white pinstripe suit complete with matching vest and dotted tie. The trousers are loose around the ankle showcasing Balenciaga boots with tall heels and she rounds out the look with a fedora worn on a tilt, hair wrapped up in a low bun.

She treads up the stairs slowly, running her hand along the banister of the staircase, the stairs creaking beneath her feet. She arrives on her floor and stops just before the door, staring at it as memories flood in. She opens the door slowly.

Hélène stands in the living room gazing out the window at the city.

She turns. “ _Bienvenue._ ”

Villanelle looks around, her eyes jumping from space to space. There’s no broken glass on the floor, no clothes thrown off hangers, no bullet holes in the kitchen. She wanders absently to her bedroom, her heart beating harder. There’s no blood, no hint of her and Eve’s shared moment. She breathes shakily remembering Eve’s words, then the pain. Her hand drifts to her scar.

Hélène watches her with an amused grin on her face.

Villanelle’s legs move her body forward. She feels as if she’s floating, and like she’s not actually there, in her bedroom. All her make-up has been replaced and is set back on her vanity dresser, a new bottle of La Villanelle with a red ribbon tied around it in the center. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirrors almost not recognizing the dark eyes peering back. She absentmindedly runs her fingers across the new Liliana Rizzari bedspread draped on her bed, not really feeling the silkiness, as she drifts over to the wardrobe. She pulls open the doors.

Eve’s green patterned scarf hangs in the center.

Villanelle clutches at it. Her chest pitches as she breathes more rapidly. She flips through the clothes slowly at first, then more frantically. Each item has been perfectly replaced to where it was before. She scrunches her brow trying to regain control of her body.

Hélène watches Villanelle unravel with delight.

“Everything has been put back in order.”

Villanelle flinches slightly at her voice. It pulls her back into the present. She throws open the drawer where her weapons used to be finding it empty.

“Well," Hélène grins, "almost everything.”

Villanelle takes a deep breath through her nose and closes her eyes, forcing her racing heart to slow. She exhales and turns to face Hélène.

Hélène smiles at her without warmth. “You could come back any time,” she shrugs.

“I am sick of Paris.”

“You used to love _Paris_.”

“That was before.”

“Before you met her?”

Villanelle can’t stop her eyes from darting over to the bed. She glances back at Hélène with focused eyes, more in control.

“Paris is overrated. It’s just drunk tourists and stuck-up women who think they know fashion.”

Hélène chuckles, “You don’t care for the City of Love?”

Villanelle clenches her jaw as Hélène glides coolly to the mini-fridge in the living room. Villanelle follows behind, working out all the ways she could attack her.

Hélène pulls out a bottle of Salon Cuvée S Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs Brut. 

She holds it up, “You do have good taste in some things.”

The corner of Villanelle’s lip twitches.

Hélène rips off the foil. “Get us flutes.” She unscrews the metal clasp, “This can only be sipped out of crystal.”

Villanelle works to stay in control, taking another steadying breath. She almost growls when she lets it out. She slinks to the kitchen hoping she might come across a knife as Hélène pops the cork. She finds no blades but grabs two crystal flutes from a cabinet knowing they could easily be broken into sharp fragments.

Hélène smiles at her as she takes a glass and fills it slowly, careful not to let the champagne fizz over.

“It was difficult to get the blood up off the floor." She exchanges the full glass for the empty glass in Villanelle’s hand. “And it was all over your bed.” She sets the bottle on the coffee table. “She must have pushed the blade in deep.”

Villanelle’s body tenses. She does her best to conceal the anger.

Hélène saunters towards the couch. Villanelle once more plays with the idea of using a broken champagne flute to slice an artery.

“Do you know why I let you have Eve?” Hélène asks, taking a refined sip.

Villanelle’s eyes fill with animosity.

“Because you both are simply fun to watch,” Hélène comments then turns to meet Villanelle’s gaze with ice-cold eyes. “The ways you try to impress her, designer clothes and expensive wine, but the fact that she does not appreciate such things. The way you try to protect her even though she walks into danger anyway. And the way she makes you submit with only a look, or her voice.”

“You have a serious problem with voyeurism.”

Hélène grins wickedly. She sits on the couch calmly, not at all worried about how much she agitates Villanelle. She nods to the seat next to her.

Villanelle forces her body over keeping in mind that sitting closer will give her a better opportunity to plunge a shard of glass into Hélène’s throat. She sits, keeping her eyes locked on Hélène.

“I think it is time we talked about the responsibilities that come with being a keeper." Hélène sips her champagne but Villanelle refuses to bring the glass to her lips. “You have worked for The Twelve long enough to know that loyalty has the highest importance, above all else. It is your job now, as a keeper, to defend the organization, to eliminate threats.”

“I thought keepers got to know names,” Villanelle retorts.

“Once they prove their worth.” Hélène takes another sip. “It seems that Eve and her colleagues at MI6 have been hard at work. But I think you are already aware of that.”

“Eve is unemployed. She hasn’t had a job in months. I helped her get fired from every position she’s ever had.”

Hélène chuckles, “She may be unemployed but she associates herself with members of MI6, and from what I hear she will go to great lengths for them.”

Villanelle contemplates smashing the flute into Hélène’s head, or she could use the champagne bottle, or flute then bottle. Or flute, bottle, broken glass…

Hélène slides a postcard out of the front pocket of her blouse.

London.

Villanelle’s heart beats harder. She fights against every impulse to kill Hélène right there with her bare hands.

“You think she loves you so much…” Hélène splays the postcard in her fingers to reveal a second one tucked behind. She shrugs, “Then she would be willing to kill for you.”

Villanelle’s eyes flicker with rage.

Hélène chuckles to herself, “She doesn’t seem to have a problem with the concept.”

Villanelle clenches her jaw. “Eve does love me,” she says through clamped teeth.

Hélène stands and looks down at Villanelle with a malicious grin.

“We will see just how much.”

She glides towards the front door, unafraid to have her back to Villanelle, but stops by the mini-fridge and turns.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want. You forever have a home here in Paris.”

Villanelle glares at her as she heads for the door. “I will be able to, by the way,” she calls after her.

Hélène turns, piqued by her phrasing. “Able to what?”

“Kill you,” Villanelle nods. “Before you even try to kill Eve.”

\-------- [Devils Angel – Unloved]

**LONDON**  
Eve strides down the sidewalk, power in her step. She throws open the door to the pub.

It’s somewhat busy for 11 AM on a Tuesday.

Bear and Audrey sit at a tall table in a dark corner, half-empty drinks in front of them both. Eve walks over and sits next to Bear. He doesn’t look up from his drink. Audrey glances over with teary despondent eyes.

Eve shifts uncomfortably.

“Hey,” she yells at the bartender. He looks up from the counter. “Can I get a gin and tonic, and two more of whatever they’re drinking.”

The bartender shoots her a peeved look then irritably pulls the bottle of Bombay Sapphire off the shelf.

“So,” Eve says, not sure the best way to approach this. She goes with the generic line. “I’m sorry for a loss.”

Audrey wipes a tear from her cheek.

“Yeah,” Bear mumbles.

Audrey sniffles, “It was just so unexpected, you know?”

Eve glances over at the bar hoping her drink is on the way soon.

“And his kid,” Audrey hangs her head, shoulders shaking from her sobs.

Bear chugs down his drink.

“Jamie was a good man. I don’t care what anyone says about his temper or his drinking.”

Eve scrunches her brow. That sounds a little familiar. She readjusts in her seat.

The bartender slides drinks in front of Audrey and Bear, then slams Eve’s down, making it slosh it over. Eve scoffs under her breath and scowls at him then gulps down a generous amount. 

Bear pulls his mug in closer and stares down blankly into the amber liquid, condensation dripping down the side of his glass. “Do you think, it could have been…you know, because of The Twelve?”

Eve eyes him, twirling her glass on the table.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bear looks up with weary eyes.

“There’s been, sort of…um…” Eve tries to come up with words.

Audrey wipes her eyes and looks intently at Eve.

“Well.” Eve turns more to Bear. “You have to stop looking into it. It’s not safe.”

“It never was,” Audrey murmurs.

“What’d you mean?” Bear asks.

“You need to destroy all the evidence. Delete any files, dump all the hard drives, get rid of the phone. We can’t leave any trace that we were ever looking into it.”

Bear creases his brow, very concerned. “Eve, are we? Are…are they going to come after us?”

Eve stares at him. “This will hopefully prevent that.”

Fear sweeps over Audrey. “Eve, are you serious?”

Eve dismisses her. “You might be fine since you never really worked on anything.”

Bear looks at Eve, gravely concerned. “Eve.”

Eve picks up her drink. “We can’t take any chances. If we remove all the records they’ll have a harder time figuring out who was involved with what.”

Audrey looks away, immensely bothered by all of this. 

“So Carolyn’s shutting down the operation?” Bear inquires.

Eve looks at him solemnly. Her phone goes off in her purse.

“Uh, hold on.” 

She digs around her bag and pulls it out, frowning at the +48 country code. She almost doesn’t answer but a gut feeling compels her to at the last second.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eve? Polastri?”

[If – Unloved]

“Uh yeah." Eve recognizes the voice. "This is her.”

“It’s Maciek.”

“Yeah.” She slumps in her seat, something feeling off. “What uh...why are you calling?”

He sighs heavily into the phone then clears his throat. Eve glances over at Bear who watches with worry. She’s about to interrupt the long silence on the other line then Maciek speaks again.

“Niko…is…” he sighs, “there was a complication.”

Eve’s shoulders drop. “Oh. Uh, okay. What does, is he-”

“Eve.” Maciek cuts in then clears his throat again. “Niko died.”

“Oh my God.”

Audrey looks over with mounting concern.

“It was a stroke. Happened out of nowhere,” Maciek explains.

“I uh, from what? What caused it?” Eve asks.

Maciek lets out a long sigh, “The doctors don’t know. Think it could have been from a blood clot formed after that accident.”

“Oh my God. What, uh,” Eve stammers.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Well I-“

“I wanted to make you aware. Arrangements will have to be made regarding finances.”

“Of course, I can-“

“I’ll get you the paperwork when it’s time.”

“Maciek. I’m willing to-“

“You’ve done enough, Eve. Let the man rest in peace.” He hangs up.

Eve furrows her brow and lowers the phone from her ear. Bear and Audrey stare at her with big eyes, thoroughly unsettled by this entire meeting. She throws her phone in her bag then slings it over her shoulder and heads for the door.

“Eve. What, where are you going?” Bear asks.

She shakes her head, trying to rapidly put together a timeline of Villanelle’s traveling.

“I don’t know,” she replies absently then flies out the door.

“Who’s paying for the drinks!” Bear calls after her.

\--------

**WARSAW**  
[Moonlight Sonata – Ludwig van Beethoven]  
Carolyn treads up the stairs to the top of an observation deck that overlooks the city block near the Vistula River, the sun about to dip below the horizon. She’s wearing her customary wool coat. This one is charcoal grey with a high collar snug around her neck giving it an almost military feel. 

There is only one other person at the top of the deck.

Konstantin grins a lopsided smile with sorrowful eyes.

“Poland is exceptionally cold this time of year,” she notes.

“They won’t let me go west of Berlin.”

“Right.”

She walks to the edge of the deck, keeping distance between them, and looks out at the snow-covered buildings.

“Let’s make it quick. I’ve someplace else I need to be.”

Konstantin barks a laugh, tears already forming in his eyes. He nods solemnly, “They have Irina.”

Carolyn softens almost imperceptibly.

“I see.”

Konstantin sniffles, “I can’t help her.” He walks up to her, “They have a noose around my neck, drag me wherever they want. If I don’t go they hang it up. That’s it.”

“You’ve made your decisions. Now you have to live with them.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” he frowns. “To deserve them taking my daughter?”

“You tried to leave their organization, and take Villanelle with you. From what I understand that is a highly punishable offense.”

He winces, “They should have just killed me, left her alone.” He takes a shaky breath in anguish. “They killed her mother.”

“I’ve seen the news reports.”

Konstantin shakes his head. A tear falls down his cheek. “I am the one responsible. For all of it,” his voice shakes. “I wanted to get away. Take Irina away, as far as we could go.”

“You knew that was never going to be an option. Working for The Twelve is a lifelong contract. There’s no way out of it.”

Konstantin presses his fingers to his eyes trying to stop the tears as Carolyn surveys the streets below, golden rays of late sun reflecting harshly off the snow.

He looks at her with bloodshot eyes. “Help her. Please.”

“I can’t,” Carolyn replies evenly.

Konstantin groans, “I beg you, please. You are the only one who can save her.”

She shrugs, “I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

He rests his forehead in hands and sobs.

She glides towards him. “And why would I be at all interested in helping you or your daughter after the way you’ve torn apart my family?”

He looks up, “What do you-“

“First Kenny and now you’ve drawn Geraldine in. You know she has no place in this.”

“She asked me about it, like she already wanted to work for them,” Konstantin retorts defensively.

“Perhaps that was because you’d already managed to get her to cozy up to you.”

“She came to me-”

“You let her fall right in.”

“She hardly works for them,” he snaps. “It’s nothing more than surveillance.”

“On me and my doings. Putting an entire operation in peril without even realizing the potential detriment.”

“She never gave them the exact truth,” he retorts, raising his voice. “That was the whole point. She wanted to protect you by misleading them.”

“Don’t mistake me for a fool, Konstantin. I won’t believe your backtracking. I’ve seen the call logs and texts. It seems she’s been rather informed this entire time.”

He throws up his hands in defeat, “What do you want me to say, huh? I never made her do any of it.”

“Yet you have the audacity to come to me, and ask me to help your daughter.”

He clutches the railing and hangs his head. “Irina is just a child. She is so young.” He runs a hand over his head, “Innocent.”

“Though not entirely, is she?”

He pushes off the railing and turns sharply facing Carolyn. “She can’t be blamed! She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she doesn’t understand. And now they are teaching her that killing is the only way.” He covers his eyes, cringing and fighting back more tears.

Carolyn looks about as if searching, “I wonder where she could have learned that?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he yells, at his wit's end. “Let them take her?”

Carolyn narrows her eyes at him unsympathetically, scrutinizing.

“There may be someone else willing to help,” she tosses out. “She’s working in Europe again.”

Konstantin swallows. Fear rushes through him.

“No.”

Carolyn treads towards him, chin held high.

“I wasn’t sure what had happened to her. If she was still alive even.”

The life drains from Konstantin’s face. He shakes his head gloomily, “Not her.”

“She may be your only option.”

Konstantin looks down at the ground below, eyes unfocused.

“She and Irina already have some rapport,” Carolyn shrugs. “Seems like a fine choice. Doesn’t it?”

He grimaces, “She is not well.”

“She appeared in control when we spoke.”

“You know what she did in Moscow?” He shakes his head slowly, “It is getting the better of her again.”

“Well she can be a little reckless off-leash, but nothing that can’t be reined back in.”

“You know she killed Vlad?” Konstantin raises his brows at Carolyn.

Her eyes remain cold. “Yes. I’m aware.”

Konstantin inhales a sharp breath and winces, “She can’t be trusted. Not after what she did in Kyiv.”

“She can be if you’re willing to reward her with something of high value.” She shrugs indifferently, “That’s how we’ve gotten her to cooperate with us.”

Konstantin can’t bear the thought.

“She will hurt her, worse than anyone else from The Twelve already has.”

“She can control her impulses when necessary. It’s something she’s been forced to learn from her mistakes over the years.”

Konstantin cringes. “You’ve seen her, you know she can’t.” He puts both hands on the icy railing and stares off at the black frigid waters of the river. “She is letting it consume her.”

“Marion can be made to be compliant. Under the proper circumstances she’s willing to do almost anything.”

Konstantin shakes his head and frowns, “I can’t do it. I do not trust her.”

“That’s my suggestion,” Carolyn replies, taking one last look at the picturesque view of the snowy streets of Warsaw at dusk, the street lamps giving off a warm glow, then heading for the stairs. She turns, “Unless of course you want to try your luck with Hélène.”

Konstantin barks a laugh, “She will kill me. No, she will kill Irina, then me. Probably you too. Maybe Villanelle and Eve, just to make a point.”

“It’s up to you to decide,” Carolyn says. “But things are coming to a close soon, it’d be wise to act fast.”

His upper lip twitches.

“Good luck, Konstantin.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
[Mama – Unloved]  
Eve leans on the counter with her head in her hands, gripping handfuls of curls, a glass of red wine near empty on the counter next to her. She’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and Calvin Klein joggers which annoyed her when she put them on because Villanelle replaced all of her flannel pajama pants with these and they feel too fancy for drinking wine in the early afternoon.

Villanelle tramps up the stairs looking knackered. She slips off her hood. Water drips off her jacket to the ground. Eve looks up warily from the counter at her, her eyes tired and glossy. Villanelle shrugs out of her jacket and kicks off her boots, roaming up to Eve. She picks up the wine bottle, bouncing it in her hand trying to feel how empty it is.

She narrows her eyes at Eve. “Second bottle?”

Eve tosses back the rest of her wine then slams the glass down on the counter.

“You know I like it when you drink the wine I buy you but it’s not even two o’clock.” Villanelle eyes Eve up and down, “Why are you like this?”

Eve pours herself another glass.

“Niko’s dead,” she says flatly.

Villanelle creases her brow.

“What?”

“Don’t,” Eve snaps then takes a drink.

“Eve.” Villanelle shakes her head in confusion. What do you mean?”

“Did you have anything to do with it?” Eve asks harshly.

Villanelle recoils, taken aback. “What?”

“Did you?” Eve demands, glaring at Villanelle with cold desolate eyes.

Villanelle’s face hardens.

“No.”

Eve scoffs loudly not believing her.

“Eve, I promise I didn’t do it.”

Eve tosses back a hefty amount of wine. Villanelle puts her hand on Eve’s shoulder trying to comfort her but Eve throws it off. She pushes past Villanelle towards the window. Villanelle frowns.

This was not how she was expecting to be welcomed home.

Eve runs a hand through her tangled curls and sighs, pushed to her limits. Villanelle studies her body language and cautiously steps towards her.

“He didn’t mean anything to you anymore,” she says ().

Eve turns sharply. “I was married to him for twenty years. I can’t just throw that all away because he died, Villanelle. It doesn’t work like that. We had a life together.” She waves her hand up and down, “Before all of this.”

Villanelle scowls.

That hurt.

Eve empties her wine glass further.

“He shouldn’t have died. He should have gone on and been happy with someone else.”

“How did he die?” Villanelle asks, her tone uncaring. 

Eve stares at her. “A stroke.”

“That is usually quick,” Villanelle replies.

She knows that Eve would’ve never been able to totally pull herself away without Niko being gone forever. And she knows Eve will understand that one day when she tells her.

But that day is not today.

She carefully treads closer. “He never accepted you for who you really are. You never would have been happy with him.” She shrugs, “You weren’t.” She slides up to Eve trying her hardest to keep her tone comforting and calm. “He could never understand you, Eve, or me. The way we are, the way we act. The things we do.”

Hostility emanates from Eve, but she doesn’t move as Villanelle glides up closer. 

She caresses Eve’s cheek. “What we have…is so different. I know what you are inside.”

Eve pulls away from Villanelle’s touch.

“You think you know me so well?” she retorts, leaning into Villanelle and making her step back. “If you had any insight you wouldn’t have gone behind my back and killed him,” she hisses.

Villanelle steps forward, “I told you I didn’t do it.”

They stand face to face, inches apart.

Villanelle forces her voice to be calm, “Eve. You know I wouldn’t.”

Eve shakes her head. “I don’t know that, Villanelle.”

Villanelle scowls at Eve, vexed. “Don’t be angry with me because you couldn’t just leave him behind. You didn’t care about him, you only pretended to because you were too afraid to face what you really are.”

Eve glares at Villanelle, her words cut deep.

“We are here now because of the choices we made, both of us,” Villanelle goes on. “You may not have killed as many people as I have but you leave your own victims behind.”

Eve clamps her fingers on the wine glass.

“No,” she sneers.

“You can’t contain it either.”

“I can.”

Villanelle chuckles and stalks towards Eve making her step back as she advances.

“Nooo. You were _dying_ for something to come along to give you an excuse to let your monster come out and play.”

Eve shoots daggers at her.

“If you really didn’t want to kill Raymond, you wouldn’t have. But you did.”

Eve holds her ground, her dark eyes raving.

“I didn’t make you do that. You chose to, Eve.”

Neither cede.

Then Eve yells and throws the wine glass against the wall behind Villanelle. She grunts and flies to the counter, grabbing an empty wine bottle and heaving it against the brick wall, shattering into large pieces. Villanelle watches with amusement, brow raised as Eve picks up and throws each of the three water glasses in the sink, breaking them to bits, glass skidding across the wooden floor. She chugs down wine then flings the bottle down against the ground smashing it apart. Red wine showers the kitchen.

Eve slumps over on the counter as Villanelle looks around at the broken glass with wide eyes. She tilts her head all the way to the side, glancing around the kitchen counting all the knives.

Two are missing. She clenches her jaw.

Eve sighs wearily, “Oh God.”

She lifts her head to find Villanelle peering in the sink.

They lock eyes.

Villanelle doesn’t more, unsure what to do or what Eve is about to do for that matter.

Eve sighs again.

This next part is going to be hard.

She runs her hands over her head, pushing back her curls.

“You’re right.”

Villanelle tries to conceal a look of satisfaction.

“About all of it.”

Villanelle nods casually.

“I wanted to do it. I was just so…bored. With Niko, with work, my life,” she shakes her head, “everything.”

“That is not your life anymore.”

Eve hangs her head in her hands. “I don’t want it to be. I never did, I just…” she looks up, “ended up there.”

“There is not all bad.” Villanelle slinks up next to her. “There led you to me.”

Eve looks at her tiredly.

Villanelle grins and shrugs, “So.”

Eve lets out a laugh, “So…”

“So…now we do what we normally do when I’m gone then come home.”

Eve chuckles. “Oh God.” She rubs her forehead. The wine has started to take its effect.

Villanelle grins at her, shifting into playful. Her eyes lighten, “I brought you something, from Paris.”

Eve scrunches her brow at her, charmed.

Villanelle dashes over to her jacket on the floor, her hand grazing Eve’s hip on her way. She pulls out the postcards. Eve studies her as she walks back, grinning, eyes light, a little bounce in her step.

Villanelle holds them both up.

Eve’s body drops. “Two?”

“Mhm. One for me, one for you.”

She sets them on the counter face up but doesn’t let Eve think on it for long.

“But we can talk about that later.”

She grabs Eve’s hand and leads her through the sea of broken glass.

\-------- [Carnival – Unloved]

**BUDAPEST**  
Irina looks out the window at the full moon shrouded by clouds in the dark sky, a fire crackling behind her. She’s wearing black slacks and a sweater, black boots.

Hélène has gathered a few select members of The Twelve together at a mansion in District II.

Marion slinks in wearing black trousers and a sheer black top with a long coat over, the tails rustle behind her.

“Did you get lost?” she asks in French.

Irina turns around, annoyed.

“No.”

Marion evaluates her. “Having second thoughts?”

“No.” Irina switches to Russian. “Stop trying to make me doubt myself.”

Marion chuckles. She responds in Russian.

“Everyone is here. Did no one teach you it is impolite to keep important people waiting?”

Irina scoffs, “You’re late to training all the time.”

“You are not important.” Marion looks down at Irina. “Do not make any mistakes.”

Irina crosses her arms. “It will be flawless. Probably better than if you were doing it.”

Marion laughs at that. 

“Your attitude is going to get you killed one day.”

“You made it this far. And your ego is like”— Irina holds her hands far apart — “massive. Bigger than the size of Russia.”

Marion sets her jaw.

The fire pops; Irina flinches.

“If you don’t do it right,” Marion smirks, “I get to kill you both.”

[Mosaic – Unloved]

Hélène stands at the head of the table in the large dining room. The walls are weathered stone and the floors deep mahogany. The dining table is centered under an antique chandelier, the wood made of dark oak, nearly black. Hélène wears a black suit tailored to perfection, the lapels white with a black border around them and the blazer held closed by a gold cinch, a white blouse underneath. She talks in a hushed voice to a woman with dark hair while three men, two older and one younger, chat amongst themselves.

Irina walks through the archway, Marion behind her. Hélène smiles mid-conversation and the woman turns to the door.

Hélène’s eyes train on Irina, Mariella’s on Marion.

Hélène smile at Marion as she rounds the table to her seat. “I was about to send out the dogs,” she says in French, the language of the evening.

Everyone chuckles.

“Please, everyone sit,” she gestures. “There is more wine of course, but let us get started with the first course, we will be here all night if we do not.”

More chuckles.

There are name cards set on each plate. Hélène is at the head of the table. To her left is Rodavan, Irina, and Kristóf. To her right is Mariella, Marion, and Saverio.

Irina sits between Rodavan and Kristóf, appearing rather confident even though she’s small between their shoulders. Marion slips into her seat between Mariella and Saverio and smiles cordially at Saverio then turns her body to Mariella, crossing her legs and grazing her foot against Mariella’s under the table. 

She does nothing to acknowledge it.

Everyone places their napkins in their laps and shifts around getting settled in.

Mariella smiles at Rodavan. “It is a pleasure to be sitting across from you again.”

He smiles but his stony grey eyes remain distant.

Kristóf eyes Irina with disdain, uncertain why someone so young would be here, as Marion and Irina exchange a glance across the table then both look away.

Saverio leans into Marion’s ear. “You’re looking soigné this evening.”

She flashes her teeth. “Zegna? On you?”

He chuckles.

Hélène remains standing, gazing around the table at piercingly dark and icy grey eyes.

“Thank you for being here tonight. I did my best to choose a location accessible to all of us but I know some of you still traveled from afar, so I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

She smiles at Rodavan. His face stays steely.

“Tonight we are celebrating the beginning of a new era for the organization. Changes have been underway for quite some time now but I am pleased to announce that we are nearly finished with the reformation.”

Solemn nods.

“Those of you here tonight have worked tirelessly to ensure that progress continues forward, and for that I want to thank you. I know many sacrifices were made along the way but we are here now because of your efforts.”

Saverio and Kristóf exchange a grim glance then Kristóf looks to Marion who faintly raises a brow back at him.

Irina doesn’t know where to look.

“I also want to acknowledge a new generation,” Hélène nods at Irina, “who will help carry the organization forward and maintain order once our contingent establishes sovereignty in Europe.”

Hélène, Mariella, and Rodavan exchange fleeting conspiring looks.

“Now more than ever I rely on your steadfast loyalty to our cause, and to one another. We would not be where we are today without your unwavering devotion. You have proven your allegiance to me and to each other. That is why you are sitting here enjoying Château Lafite and caviar, and the others are elsewhere.”

Everyone grins smugly.

Hélène raises her glass.

“To fortitude, fidelity, and ferocity in securing a new era of power.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
Villanelle lies on the unmade bed in her flat, staring up at the ceiling. She’s wearing a black velvety Alexander McQueen suit with a narrow black tie. Her blonde hair hangs messily around her shoulders.

Shopping bags and shoeboxes are strewn about. Stella McCartney, Alexander McQueen, Christian Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, BVLGARI.

Eve finishes her make-up in the bathroom, her hair styled in elegant waves drifting off to one side. The black Stella McCartney dress Villanelle bought her hangs on her beautifully.

Villanelle sighs exaggeratedly in the bedroom.

“Why did you tell me to come back if you aren’t even ready yet?”

Eve doesn’t respond. She puts on the Buccellati necklace Villanelle got her in Milan.

“Eve.” Villanelle sits up on her elbows and watches the bathroom door.

“I’m almost done,” Eve yells over her shoulder.

Villanelle rolls her eyes and huffs then falls back on the bed.

[Silvery Moon – Unloved]

Eve smiles at herself in the mirror. Her heart races faster, excited to see the look on Villanelle’s face.

“Okay, coming.”

She strolls out of the bathroom.

Villanelle sits up on the bed. Her annoyed expression immediately falls off her face. She lets out a breath then swallows, her eyes softening as they take in every part of Eve.

Her eyes, her smile, her hair, the necklace, that dress…

Eve grins as she slinks closer, a huge smile spreading across Villanelle’s face, her eyes turning into hazel rings of light. She bites her lower lip, smitten.

Eve flashes her a flirty smize. 

“Nice tie.”

Villanelle chuckles and grins to one side, opening her mouth to speak but unable to find any words. She huffs out a laugh, watching Eve check her look in the standing mirror by the bed.

She looks absolutely to die for.

Villanelle scoots off the bed and slinks up behind her. Their eyes meet in the mirror. Eve runs a finger across the white gold and diamonds that hang around her neck. Villanelle’s breath falters.

“What do you think?” she asks. “Should I wear it?”

Villanelle’s neck twitches. A shiver runs through her body.

She creases her brow and shakes her head. “Too memorable,” she forces out.

Eve smiles and tilts her head slightly to the side, exposing her neck more.

“Could you?”

Villanelle inhales a shaky breath. It hitches.

“Mhm,” she breathes out.

Eve grins, reveling in this moment.

Villanelle’s hands shake. She creases her brow in concentration, running her tongue along her lower lip then biting it, focusing hard on unclipping the tiny metal clasp, the simple task feeling impossible. She struggles unable to get the clasp to do what she wants it to do. Eventually, her trembling fingers work it off.

Eve rubs her bare neck. Villanelle swallows. Her entire body vibrates. She slips the necklace around her own neck and clasps it securely in place.

Eve stifles a smile watching Villanelle in the mirror.

Villanelle loosens her tie and slips Eve’s necklace under the collar of her shirt then readjusts her collar and tautens the tie. She looks back in the mirror and flushes, realizing Eve was watching her and grins shyly, wrapping her arms around Eve’s waist and pressing herself into her back making her grin. She nuzzles into Eve’s silky hair and inhales her scent, shutting her eyes and holding Eve tighter.

Eve smiles. “I can’t be late.”

“I’m having a moment.”

Villanelle takes a deep breath and Eve can feel her chest press against her back. She closes her eyes and slides her hands over Villanelle’s around her waist.

Their bodies fit into place against one another.

Their breathing slows.

Their heartbeats align.

Eve sighs heavily and squeezes Villanelle’s arms.

“Okay.”

Villanelle groans. She loosens her hold, pouting, as Eve turns in her arms, looking into her tender eyes then caressing her cheek, letting Villanelle pull her back in closer. Villanelle grins her crooked smile as Eve runs her thumb against her soft skin.

Villanelle wants desperately to kiss Eve but breathes out a laugh instead.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, her voice husky.

Eve smiles sweetly and shakes her head.

“Are you?”

Villanelle grins and shakes her head like she’s excited more than anything else. She licks her lip then bites the corner. Eve knows the look. She leans away.

Villanelle furrows her brow. “No,” she groans.

Eve chuckles under her breath and pulls away forcing Villanelle to release her arms. She sighs and shrugs her shoulders down, sulking.

Eve grins. 

“I’ll find you after.”

Villanelle nods as Eve grabs an overcoat from the bed, slightly crumpled from Villanelle lying on it. Villanelle slides her hands in her pockets and watches Eve slip it on then stride for the stairs.

“Eve,” she says, not wanting her to go just yet.

Eve pauses and turns. Villanelle looks small and young standing there. They stare at each other endearingly across the flat.

“Don’t be late,” is all Villanelle can manage.

Eve smiles. “I won’t.”

\--------

**THE COURT**  
Eve glides into the foyer of The Court, one of London’s most prestigious private members’ clubs. The Club is having a soirée tonight to celebrate patrons who have been members for over twenty years. The attire is strictly black tie and men and women are lavished in sophisticated tuxedos and evening gowns.

Eve floats to the main lounge.

The floors are black marble laid out in an ornate pattern, the walls made of rich woods with mirrors interspersed, and the ceiling is covered in midnight blue velvet, the fabric of the armchairs matches seamlessly, a few accents chairs the color of burnt orange. A jazz ensemble plays big-band hits. Eve catches the tail end of a Glenn Miller song.

[Moonlight Serenade – Glenn Miller & His Orchestra]

She sashays up to the bar.

Wine glasses hang above from a rack running the entire length of the bar. In the center, pricey bottles of liquor glow from the soft lights shining behind them and mirrors encased in gold frames hang on either side.

The bartender approaches Eve with a warm smile.

“Good evening, ma’am. What are you drinking tonight?”

“Uh…a dirty martini,” Eve responds.

“Excellent.”

Eve surveys the room glancing from black tuxedo to chic dress trying to find her target. She does her best to appear to be doing so in a casual manner, as if looking for a friend.

Villanelle stressed the importance of not being painfully obvious while seeking a person out of a crowd. Eve rolled her eyes.

An older couple laughs loudly at the nearby table; a woman spills her drink a bit as she turns to wave to a friend; a group of young people text on their phones more than they talk; and a younger gentleman stands against the far wall scanning the room too. His eyes meet Eve’s for a moment then continue on.

The bartender sets a martini glass in front of Eve.

“Your martini, ma’am.”

Eve turns back around.

“Thank you.” She smiles.

“My pleasure.”

Eve catches her reflection in the mirror, stirred by the charged brown eyes looking back. She sips her drink and slinks against the wall, eyes jumping from a younger man dressed in a white tuxedo to a woman in a burgundy gown, then to a man and presumably his wife both dressed in black.

Her gaze lands on someone intriguing, her eyes sliding up from Jimmy Choo heels over a pressed white dress shirt all the way to a neat blonde ponytail. Villanelle turns, serving tray in hand. Her sharp eyes fix on Eve for a fraction of an instant then they both divert their gaze.

Villanelle clamps her jaw, stopping herself from looking back over at Eve, and slinks away between people as Eve forces herself to look down at her drink, stifling a grin.

The jazz band finishes their song. Light applause fills the room.

The saxophonist speaks into the microphone. “Thank you, thank you. We’re going to play something a little more lively now. I’ve been told to remind you that the dance floor is always open.”

Laugh lighter echoes around.

The saxophonist nods to the ensemble and snaps the tempo. He counts them off.

“One, two, a one two-” he brings the instrument to his lips.

[In The Mood – Glenn Miller & His Orchestra]

The energy in the room lifts and gets more vibrant.

People bounce on their feet and tap to the beat. A few swivel their hips trying to entice their partners to dance.

Eve loses sight of Villanelle.

She makes her way to a private salon, carrying a tray balancing many champagne glasses and dispersing them to the members with feigned politeness. A man wearing spectacles snaps at her. She grudgingly approaches him.

“This is a brut I won’t drink it,” he scoffs. “Get me an extra dry Louis Roederer.”

Villanelle forces a smile. “Of course, I’m terribly sorry.”

She’s using her Suffolk accent tonight.

She notices her target in her periphery, an older woman dressed in a lustrous champagne-colored evening gown, slipping out of the room. Villanelle leaves the man roaring in laughter with his companions and stalks after the woman.

Meanwhile, Eve has finished half of her martini.

Villanelle repeatedly told her absolutely not to finish her drink. That it was imperative that she did not. Eve rolled her eyes.

Eve meanders through cliques of women gossiping and groups of men exchanging brazen stories. Everyone seems to be pleasantly buzzed. The atmosphere is light and jovial. She winds her way to the grand staircase and heads up to the second floor.

The floors are white marble up here.

Her eyes catch her target, a man with a long face dressed in a black tuxedo, as retreats down the corridor towards the balcony. She follows behind leisurely, taking another sip of her drink then setting it on the countertop of the bar. She slinks after him trying her best not to be deliberate, stealing glances at the other people in the lounge. No one seems at all interested in her or the fact that she’s somewhat obviously pursuing this man.

He opens the doors to the balcony, a rush of cold air hitting his face. Eve waits a beat or two then strides out.

Downstairs, Villanelle has most definitely not returned with a glass of Louis Roederer for the man with spectacles. She carries an empty tray down the long hallway towards the bathrooms. Her target’s heels click on the hardwood and reverberate around the walls. She glances over her shoulder at the two women laughing loudly behind her. Clearly, they’ve taken advantage of the open bar. She rolls her eyes and breaks down the hallway to her right which leads to a billiard room and allows the women to stroll past her, their arms linked, having a good laugh about something.

Villanelle sighs and waits a moment then she darts back into the main hallway, locating her target as she slips into the bathroom up ahead. She scowls knowing that’s where the other women are likely heading.

[Fail We May Sail We Must – Unloved]

Up on the balcony, Eve maintains a respectable distance from her target.

Hugh Rodham.

She stands under a heater one away from the one he’s next to, watching as he pats down the front of his suit jacket feeling for a pack of cigarettes.

Except there isn’t one.

Because Villanelle pickpocketed it.

Eve slips a pack of Silk Cuts out of her purse and approaches him with a smile.

“Need to bum one?” she asks in a friendly tone.

Hugh turns. “Oh.” He feels around his pockets but comes up empty. “Yes, I do actually. I’ve seemed to have misplaced mine.”

Eve smiles. “Happens more than I’d like to admit.”

He chuckles.

She opens the pack and slips a cigarette out halfway, holding it out for him.

Hugh pulls it out with a grin. “Thank you.”

Eve reluctantly pulls a cigarette out for herself and holds it between her fingers.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a light as well would you?” Hugh asks, the cigarette between his teeth.

“In fact, I do,” Eve replies with a smile.

She exchanges the pack for the black Zippo lighter in her purse and flicks it once, igniting the flame.

“Here.” She holds it up for him and he leans in, touching the end of the cigarette to the flame.

“Thanks.” He nods and inhales.

“Sure.”

Eve holds the cigarette close to her mouth but she doesn’t light it.

Or let it touch her lips.

Hugh leans up against the banister and takes another deep puff, exhaling the smoke and creating a billowing cloud in the chilly air. Eve watches, her eyes darkly animated, her heart racing.

He turns to her. “Aren’t you go-“

He coughs harshly, furrowing his brow as he beats his chest and coughs more. His fearful eyes lock onto Eve’s. He wheezes and hacks, shaking his head as he tries to suck in more air but his lungs won’t allow it. He drops the cigarette and grips the banister as he chokes and sputters trying desperately to get oxygen, gasping in raspy breaths, his breathing only gets shallower. Eve stalks towards him. His cigarette gives off a tiny plume of smoke on the frosty ground. He clamps a hand to his throat as he chokes, his body not getting nearly enough oxygen, looking at Eve with terror as his breathing constricts further. 

Hugh gags and bangs his chest, eyes squeezed shut, his clutch on the banister tightening and tightening then releasing. His legs give way and his body smacks into the stone railing then crumples to the ground. Eve leans over him, wide feral eyes taking it all in, his void eyes staring back at her. She laughs wildly, breath puffing into the air then she spins abruptly and absconds from the balcony.

In the hallway bathroom, Villanelle calculates a new plan. The two drunk women are inconveniently occupying stalls while her target stands in front of the sinks.

Villanelle approaches the bathroom attendant.

“You’re wanted in the ladies’ upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asks.

“Yes, absolutely.” Villanelle nods.

“I was told-“

“Go!” Villanelle snaps, her Russian accent coming through.

The attendant jumps and scurries out of the bathroom as Villanelle slinks around the corner, tray still in hand, eyes on her target.

Diane Everly.

Diane touches up her lipstick in the mirror.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” Villanelle grins at her, “but is that Louboutin Velvet? In Matte Rouge?”

Diane creases her brow and looks at the lipstick.

“Uh, yes. It is.”

“Oh, I’ve been trying to find that for ages now,” Villanelle gushes, “can’t seem to get it anywhere.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware it was hard to come by.”

The two women noisily exit their stalls, slamming the doors. They stumble to the sinks still laughing.

“Oh, yeah,” Villanelle says. “Don’t think I could pull it off though, if I ever found it.” She pouts her lips in the mirror. “It’s such a bold look.” She smacks her lips once.

Diane rubs her lips together and turns to Villanelle.

“I’m sure you could, you have good lip shape.”

”Oh, thank you.” Villanelle manages to blush. “You’re too kind.”

The two women turn the corner and exit.

Finally.

Diane smiles sincerely at Villanelle.

“I believe I got this at Liberty, somewhere around seventy pounds.”

“Oh gosh, I’d never be able to afford that,” Villanelle says with a frown, tightening her grip on the tray tucked under her arm.

“No?” Diane admires the lipstick then slips it in her purse. “Hm.”

She strides past Villanelle, having lost interest in their conversation.

“Oh, but um,“ Villanelle blurts.

Diane turns.

Villanelle whips her arm, slamming the tray into Diane’s throat. She hacks and doubles over, bringing a hand to her throat as she shoots a disoriented look at Villanelle.

Villanelle throws her against the wall and pulls a T-style corkscrew from her pocket, stabbing it into her windpipe. Diane drops her bag and clutches at her throat with both hands. Panic floods her eyes. Villanelle raises the tray over her head and smacks it against the corkscrew once, driving it in deeper, then frisbees the tray away. She cranks the corkscrew, twisting it in as deep as it will go.

Diane gags and makes terrible retching sounds, unable to stop Villanelle, the fear in her eyes only exhilarating her. Villanelle pulls hard on the corkscrew and rips it from Diane’s throat, quickly dodging the spray of blood. She stands back and watches as Diane slowly slides down the wall, blood gushing from the hole in her throat, the life draining from her eyes.

Villanelle gazes down at her, captured by the way the blood seeps into the fabric of her dress, spreading like fire. Then she drops the corkscrew and turns abruptly for the exit.

\--------

**BUDAPEST**  
[Sigh – Unloved]  
Knives scrap against china. Everyone is into the main course of prime rib. Each took their turn slicing a piece for themselves, eager to do so. The platter sits in the center of the table between Marion and Irina, a long carving knife and fork positioned on either side.

Rodavan gingerly sets down his fork and knife and clasps his hands together.

“I don’t want to take away from the triumph of this evening,” he says slowly, his voice low in pitch. “But I have spoken with our liaison in Madrid, and it seems that one of our own is being tempted to trade information with a certain intelligence agency.”

Marion doesn’t flinch one bit. It’s as if she didn’t hear the comment.

Mariella exchanges a grave expression with Rodavan, seeming to be deeply upset by this news as Hélène circles round the base of her wine glass with a finger. She looks between Rodavan and Mariella, then down at Saverio.

“Yes,” she says. “I am afraid that some reorganization is still required, though I want to assure you it won’t halt our progress in any way.”

Her eyes flicker to Marion. The corner of her lips form a small smile to one side.

Kristóf swallows a heaping bite. “Madrid?”

Saverio leans in Marion’s ear. “Hand me the prime rib.”

Marion turns to him with a cold expression then lifts the heavy platter from the table and passes it over to him. Irina flashes her an anxious glance which she ignores completely.

“Does that come as a surprise to you?” Hélène responds to Kristóf’s question.

Kristóf shakes his head as he washes down the meat with some wine.

“Who do we have in Madrid? I thought we were running out of Barcelona?”

“The organization will not tolerate anyone who wishes to defect,” Rodavan states flatly. “And we will find out about those who do.” He glances at Marion who gives a solemn nod with black eyes.

Saverio cuts off another large chunk of prime rib and adds it to his plate.

Hélène carries on. “I should not need to remind this group that the only ones permitted to confer with secret intelligence agencies are those who have been sanctioned by their handlers to do so. All others will face the very grave consequences of their actions.”

”It is a shame when we have to utilize our own assets to eliminate a traitor within the organization,” Mariella chimes in, looking at Rodavan then Hélène, “but we will never hesitate to do so.”

Saverio hands the platter back to Marion. She replaces it to the center of the table, letting her eyes meet Irina’s for a split second.

Saverio takes a sip of wine then clears his throat. “I would like to add that there are some of us already working inside agencies, so don’t make the mistake of thinking your actions will ever go unnoticed. We are always watching.”

“Always,” Rodavan confirms.

Marion looks to Hélène. “You know there is nothing I enjoy more than killing those who believe they can trust me. So please, if there is ever-“

Irina grabs the carving fork and stabs Kristóf in the neck; he yelps, taken completely by surprise. She rips it out and jams it in again aiming for the carotid. Marion watches with elation. Mariella raises a brow.

Irina stabs Kristóf with the fork repeatedly, blood spurting on her hands. He pushes against the table in an attempt to get up and fight back but she’s already done too much damage. Blood jets through the gashes in his neck.

Hélène sips her red wine at the head of the table.

Saverio takes another bite, hardly looking up from his dinner.

Irina grips the carving fork, hands covered in blood, continuing to impale Kristóf in the neck.

Rodavan watches with callous eyes.

Kristóf gags and tries to cover all the gushing holes in his neck with his hands but it’s of no use. He drops down banging against the table them tumbles out of his chair to the ground.

“That resolves that problem,” Saverio says then slides a chunk of meat off his fork with his teeth.

Rodavan looks at Marion. “What good is a keeper if they only divulge the information they receive.”

Hélène smiles but remains austere. “That position is reserved only for those willing to defend the organization. Not betray it.”

Mariella whispers in Marion’s ear, “I thought you might have a hand in it.”

Marion smiles at her. “Not tonight.”

Irina stares at the empty chair, eyes wild with thrill, still clutching the fork. Her heart pounds against her ribs. Hélène gives Marion a look. She sighs and sets her jaw.

She stands.

“Excuse me.”

She rounds the table to retrieve Irina as Hélène whistles sharply and two young men dressed in black promptly remove Kristóf’s body.

Marion looks down at Irina who hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Let’s go,” she orders in Russian. 

Irina doesn’t budge.

“Irina,” Marion bites, pulling her out of her daze.

Irina stands with the fork still in hand.

“Leave it,” Marion instructs.

Irina admires the bloody utensil a moment then drops it on the ground and Marion pulls her out of the dining room.

Hélène looks around at the remaining members with a wicked smile.

“I hope that didn’t spoil your appetite for dessert.”

\--------

**HYDE PARK**  
[Damned – Unloved]  
Villanelle gazes down at the water from the bridge over the narrow lake, her hands jammed in her pockets, her breath showing in the cold air. She’s wearing her blazer again, the night frigid. The light of a full moon shimmers off the dusting of snow.

It rarely snows in London, yet tonight snowfall glistens on everything.

Eve strides up the sidewalk.

Villanelle senses her before she hears her. She turns, the moonlight casting soft shadows across her face and Eve smiles at her, her heart beating faster. She picks up her pace, Villanelle grinning, her heart racing wildly too. Eve struts up to her and they collide in a kiss, Eve wrapping her arms around Villanelle’s neck, Villanelle sliding her arms around Eve’s waist.

They kiss passionately, amorously, lustfully as if no one is watching.

Eve slips her hand down to Villanelle’s cheek and Villanelle grips her tighter as they kiss fervidly, their bodies shifting silhouettes against the reflection of the bright moon on the water.

Eve pulls away finally, all smiles.

“So,” Villanelle grins. “It went well?”

Eve laughs and kisses Villanelle again, her affirmatory answer.

“Yours?” she asks, her lips brushing against Villanelle’s.

“Obviously. I am the professional.”

Eve chuckles, her breath warm on Villanelle’s lips. She slides her hand along Villanelle’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

Villanelle scrunches her brow and grins.

“Where?” she inquires.

Eve’s eyes flicker.

“Anywhere.”

Villanelle glides her hands to Eve’s hips, looks quizzically into her electrified eyes. Eve laughs and grabs her hand, dragging her along, their fingers intertwining. She pulls Villanelle up close to her, feeling the warmth from her body.

The cold bites at their skin but they don’t care. They walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, no particular direction in mind, unable to contain their smiles or keep their eyes off each other.

Villanelle glances at Eve, debating whether or not to say something. Eve catches her.

Villanelle grins to one side.

“Hélène was wrong.”

Eve furrows her brow.

“You do love me,” Villanelle says smugly.

Eve laughs and rolls her eyes, looking away almost self-consciously. Villanelle smirks and squeezes her hand as they tread through the slush. This time Eve looks over and Villanelle can see her out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you love me?” Eve asks.

Villanelle stops walking. She turns to Eve and takes her other hand, furrowing her brow as if the question hurt her.

“Eve.”

She pulls Eve’s hands to her hips; Eve reflexively wraps her arms around Villanelle’s waist as she runs her fingers through her curls then caresses her cheek, gently taking her face with both hands, gazing intently into her tender eyes. She rests her forehead against Eve’s, leaning in so the bridges of their noses touch.

Eve tightens her hold, clutching at Villanelle with her fingers, pulling their bodies closer together. Villanelle smiles and slides her hands to Eve’s shoulders, leaning back to look at her head on. Her eyes empty some. The smile falls.

Eve swallows.

Villanelle firmly grips Eve’s jacket then gives her a pretend shove forward into the street just as a large truck flies down the road, pulling her back in laughing hard. Eve sighs heavily. She wraps Villanelle’s tie around her hand a few times and yanks her in close.

“You can’t,” she whispers with sultry confidence.

Villanelle stops laughing. Eve called her bluff. She leans in and kisses Villanelle, Villanelle kissing harder back. She slides her arms around Eve and clutches at her jacket realizing what would have happened if she let go. Eve pulls harder on the tie and it cuts off the circulation to her fingers. She can feel her own pulse quicken.

Villanelle leans away smiling.

“Come on, I just thought of something.”

[Guilty of Love (Radio Edit) – Unloved]

Eve and Villanelle stroll up the sidewalk to the outdoor ice rink at Somerset House, Eve’s arm linked with Villanelle’s, both still smiling. Villanelle eagerly pulls Eve up to the railing.

“You want to ice skate?” Eve asks, disappointment in her voice.

“No.” Villanelle shakes her head repelled by the idea. “I have never wanted to skate,” she shrugs, “ever.”

Eve throws up a hand. “What are we–“

“Shhh.”

Villanelle unlinks her arm and Eve tilts her head at her impatiently.

She was already almost thrown in front of a speeding truck tonight.

Villanelle scoops up snow from the ground and forms a ball.

“Watch.”

Eve raises her brows, now curious and excited. Villanelle narrows her eyes and scans the rink searching for a target, her gaze landing on a skater already unsteady on the ice. She launches the snowball and hits him square in the back throwing him off-balance. He slips around on his skates trying to regain traction but catches a tip and falls hard to his side.

Villanelle and Eve burst into laughter.

The man fumbles around on his hands and knees trying to figure out how to stand back up as Villanelle scoops up another snowball. Eve watches with exhilaration.

Villanelle hurls it at a woman smacking her in the side of the face. She skids to the side and takes an awkward step tangling her skates, falling and pulling the man whose hand she’s holding down with her. They flounder on the ice trying to get back up.

Eve and Villanelle cackle from behind the railing, eyes watering.

“I have to try,” Eve says excitedly.

She grabs up some snow and presses it into a ball, Villanelle too. Some of the skaters have caught on and glide to the other side of the rink.

A few unaware victims remain.

Eve throws her snowball at a teenager skating in front of her group just missing to the side. Villanelle barks a laugh. Eve frowns. The girl turns in the direction of the snowball only to get pelted in the chest by the one Villanelle launched. She flails her arms wildly backwards trying to keep her balance but slips and falls on her rear. Eve and Villanelle laugh so hard they don’t make any sounds. Tears stream down their cheeks.

“Oh my God,” Eve wipes her eyes, “this is the best.”

Villanelle nods at her grinning, wiping a tear from her own cheek. Across the way, the first skater she hit alerts a worker across the ice.

She huffs. “Why do people always have to ruin our fun?”

“One more?” Eve grins.

Villanelle nods enthusiastically.

“Together?” Villanelle asks.

Eve smiles and nods.

They both bend down and gather up their ammo, eyes locked on the same target.

“The one with-“

“Ohh yeah.”

They focus in on their helpless victim.

“On three?” Eve asks.

Villanelle grunts an affirmatory response.

“One. Two.” They both pull their hands back. “Three.”

Eve and Villanelle heave their snowballs, both hitting a young boy on the back. He slips and stumbles forward onto his stomach, somewhat able to brace his fall but the young girl next to him turns and looks over too abruptly. She loses her balance and falls over on her side.

The father behind has to stop hard to prevent a collision but catches an edge and goes down hard on his knee. The mother screams and slowly sits down awkwardly, not sure how else to makes herself stop, finally collapsing to the side.

Eve and Villanelle cackle wildly, sucking in air between, beside themselves with laugher. The worker, a young teenage boy, trudges down the sidewalk towards them scowling in irritation.

Villanelle laughs. “Look at him. All-” she mimics his angry face.

Eye flashes a mischievous grin.

“Should we kill him?”

Villanelle’s eyes flicker.

“Oh God no, I was joking.”

“Let me scare him.” Villanelle scoops up two snowballs, “Just a little?” She gives Eve an innocent playful look.

Eve sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay but hurry up, I want to go home.”

“Oh?” Villanelle raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “I will be _very_ fast then.”

Eve lets out a laugh. “Just do it already.”

Villanelle gives Eve an overexaggerated smile then turns and sprints at the poor worker, yelling and raising her hand getting ready to heave a snowball. He startles and backpedals then turns and runs, realizing Villanelle isn’t going to slow down.

Eve laughs hard.

Villanelle chases after him until she’s close enough to throw the snowballs, hitting him hard in the back of the head with one then the shoulder with the other. He cowers and runs away and she breaks to a stop, laughing hard, hands on her knees. She turns to look at Eve who cackles madly, wiping away more tears.

Villanelle grins and runs back to Eve, grabbing her hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

\--------

**LONDON**  
Geraldine moseys into Carolyn’s bathroom wearing a plush robe, an open bottle of red wine in one hand and a glass in the other. Hot water pours from the spout into the tub, steam rising into the air. She refills her glass and sets it on the edge of the rub then lights several candles also on the edge.

She sighs heavily. The flames of the candles flicker making shadows dance on the walls.

She checks her phone. One missed call from “Mum” and three texts from a number with a +7 country code. She holds down the power button and the screen prompts her to shut down the phone.

She hesitates.

The water nears the top of the tub.

She twists the knob on the faucet, turning off the water, and sets her phone on the counter then slips out of the robe and hangs it on the back of the door, carefully stepping into the warm water. It singes her skin just so.

[Bill – Unloved]

She sinks down into the tub, relaxing her head against the cool porcelain, closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath through her nose and letting it out slowly through her mouth.

A few drops drip from the spout.

Geraldine takes a long drink of wine. A heavy warmness sets into her body. She looks into the still water, contemplating everything she’s done up to this point then sips more wine and lies back against the cool tub, shutting her eyes.

Peaceful darkness.

The flames flutter rapidly in unison from the gust of air pushed inside by the opening of the door. A woman’s figure soundlessly drifts into the bathroom towards the tub, her features concealed by the dark.

Geraldine remains blissfully unaware.

The woman slips her hands around Geraldine’s throat then plunges her head under the bath water. Geraldine’s eyes fly open as she thrashes her legs and claws at the woman’s hands, her screams muffled underwater The woman holds her below the surface, Geraldine choking as she kicks her feet against the tub trying to push up out of the water. The woman clamps her hands and forces Geraldine down farther.

Water splashes everywhere. A wave lands in a candle; it sizzles and burns out.

Geraldine struggles, flailing and flinging her arms above her head out of the water. She lands a few smacks on the woman’s arms but she’s unbothered, she counts the seconds left. 

Geraldine scrapes her nails against the woman’s skin then digs in, drawing blood but the woman flexes her muscles, keeping Geraldine submerged until...

Until she stops fighting back.

Geraldine’s arms fall down into the rippling water with a splash.

The woman stands up straight.

She shakes the water off her hands then dries them on her pants and pulls a small note out of her pocket and slips it under the base of the wine glass on the edge of the tub.

The moonlight illuminates the flashy cursive writing.

“C'est la guerre”

The woman blows out the remaining candles and escapes into the darkness.

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry Geraldine (that hurt to write) but also DARK EVE HAS RISEN
> 
> The only people who would think a double kill is romantic? Villanelle and Eve
> 
> I guess I have a thing about throats
> 
> Thank you Google for everything, you know what you’ve done
> 
> Feedback always welcome! (I get excited when I get new comments)


	7. Force Of Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène sends Marion to deliver a message to Konstantin; Villanelle and Eve bide time together awaiting further instruction; Carolyn shares invaluable insight with Eve prompting the start of Operation Odesa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting serious and there’s no going back!
> 
> I can’t believe there’s only one chapter left, wow.
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Lee – Unloved  
> I Could Tell You But I’d Have to Kill – Unloved  
> Cry Baby Cry – Unloved  
> The Shadow’s Bride – Peter Gundry  
> The Ground – Unloved  
> Love – Unloved  
> Gnossienne No. 3 – Erik Satie  
> Love Lost – Unloved  
> Boy and Girl (Instrumental) – Unloved  
> Remember – Unloved  
> When a Woman Is Around – Unloved  
> If - Unloved  
> Xpectations – Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: Force Of Habit](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pK04Wf6IcWUYkaku5zMri)

**LONDON**  
[Lee – Unloved]  


Carolyn marches through the front door to find her house which she notices but doesn’t think more than twice about.

“I’ve nearly worked out a way to use your position within The Twelve to both of our advantages,” she announces loudly, assuming Geraldine is downstairs busying herself with something unimportant. She glances into the living room and dining room on her way to the kitchen. “I’m on the verge of an a-ha moment. I can feel it right on the tip of my cortex.”

She fills a kettle with water.

“Geraldine?” she calls loudly, placing the kettle on the stove and turning the flames on high. “Do me a favor and bring up an Earl Grey when this comes to a boil.”

She treads upstairs and slips out of her heavy navy-blue coat and tosses it on her bed. She pauses and closes her eyes, contemplating this newly devised plan, holding her fingers to her chin as she thinks.

She sighs. “It’ll have to come to me in the bath.”

She takes a step towards the bathroom but is hit by her intuition like a rush of cold air, wavering on her feet. Her face hardens. She slowly steps towards the bathroom door and places her hand on it.

She stands there, hand up against the wood, making no further move except to take a breath.

She pushes the door open.

The air nearly gets knocked out of her. Her eyes landing on the full wine glass first then the note underneath then the still bathwater.

Her heart sinks.

She has to will her legs to carry her towards the edge of the tub, reading the cursive writing, her heart racing faster with each letter. She lets her eyes drift towards the water, gasping and immediately squeezing them shut, clutching her chest as her legs nearly give way.

Eve trudges into the open house, the lights from police cruisers flashing in the driveway.

“Carolyn?” she calls.

She looks around the house with a creased brow, analyzing it for anything out of place as Jess steps down the stairs somberly.

“What?” Confusion sweeps over Eve. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“She’s in the kitchen,” Jess says with a frown.

“Jess. What are- What?”

“I think it’s best if you talked to her. But tread lightly.”

Eve heads for the kitchen. Her shoulders drop as soon as she walks in. Carolyn slouches over the counter staring down into a full glass of brandy, the bottle sitting next to her.

“Carolyn?” Eve tries, cautiously approaching her, eyeing her worriedly.

“Is Villanelle coming?” Carolyn asks without looking up.

“Um, no. You told me not to let her.”

Carolyn sighs and nods, eyes fixed on the brandy.

“What happened? What’s going on? Why is Jess here?” she asks bluntly.

Carolyn pauses, her fingers running along the glass.

“Geraldine.”

“What?”

Carolyn takes a long drink but her gaze stays down on the counter.

“Someone attacked her while she was in the bath.”

“What, she-“

“Died, yes.”

“Oh my God,” Eve mutters, taken aback, all other words escaping her.

She quickly considers what this could mean for the operation. Who did it, why, when, what were they after? Then she recognizes the weight of the situation.

“Carolyn,” she says with concern.

Carolyn takes another long drink then gives Eve a drained and grief-stricken look.

“We’ll have to wait for the autopsy report to know more. And the graphology analysis.”

“Graphology?”

“There was a note.” She sips. “Written in French.”

Eve scoffs and shakes her head then pauses and sighs, trying to maintain some composure.

“Well, uh, what should I do?” Eve asks, evaluating Carolyn. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please. No. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“Carolyn-“

“Go home, to Villanelle. I’ll call you when you’re needed.”

[I Could Tell You But I’d Have to Kill – Unloved]

**KILLING EVE**

**6TH ARRONDISSEMENT**  
Hélène struts into a dimly lit boxing gym, her trousers whipping against her legs as her heels click on the concrete. The galloping of horses and the commentary of announcers booms from the TV in the corner, echoing around the space. Irina sits on a bench watching the race. 

Hélène approaches her, her phone pressed to her ear.

“You know you cannot eat chocolate crêpes for every meal,” she scolds in French.

A muffled whiny response comes from the other end.

“No. You need to eat something real, like ham or chicken or cheese,” Hélène says with a sternness to it.

A more defiant response.

Irina listens curiously.

“No, you cannot put chocolate on ham and cheese.”

A loud outburst.

“Give the phone to Grandma,” Hélène says, glancing at Irina who stifles a smile.

”Salut,” an older woman’s voice answers.

“This is what happens when you let her pick what to eat,” Hélène snaps, “she thinks she can have whatever she wants, all the time. I don’t want to have to deal with this when I come home, discipline her.” She hangs up then closes her eyes and takes a moment.

“Who was that?” Irina asks.

“Do not ask me questions you know you will not get the answer to.”

Irina grins, amused Hélène is already irritated.

“When do I get to start actual training?” Irina asks with the attitude of an adolescent.

Hélène stares at her as she curbs her frustration and gets her emotions to settle.

“When you are fit,” she replies tersely. “You have a long way to go on your endurance training.”

“Running every day is so repetitive.” Irina rolls her eyes. “I want to do something new. Something fun.”

“Once you run a six-minute mile, you can do whatever you want.”

“That is almost impossible.”

“For someone who needs more conditioning it is.”

Irina crosses her arms and scowls at Hélène who stares back coldly.

“But for those of us who maintain our endurance, it is not hard.” Hélène shrugs.

Irina scoffs, “You? Running? In what, those heels?”

Hélène grins. “You need to put more effort into basic exercises if you want to improve enough to start combat training.”

“I want to shoot a gun,” Irina says with a defiant grin.

“You will not be holding a gun anytime soon.”

“Why not? Everyone else gets to. Marion shoots people all the time.”

“You do not have the self-restraint to handle a firearm. Marion has years of practice, and even she still makes mistakes.”

“Then why is she training me?” Irina questions.

Hélène smiles as she holds back exasperation to maintain poise.

“Mistakes have the power to turn you into something better than you were before.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Irina smirks at her.

Hélène glides up to Irina, looking down at her.

“Your actions before led you to a psychiatric facility where you would have been held for four years, if you were not sent to a juvenile detention center first.”

Irina shifts in her seat, uneasy under Hélène’s icy gaze.

“But now you are here learning new skills and refining your talents. Because of your mistakes,” Hélène continues.

Irina uncrosses her arms then re-crosses them, uncomfortable from Hélène’s words.

“The way you completed your assignment the other night was by no means perfect. There is always room for improvement, in all aspects of life,” Hélène says with a smile.

Irina glares furiously, her brow furrowed. “One day I will be stronger than Marion _and_ Villanelle. I will be the best. Better than them, better than you. Better than everyone.”

Hélène smiles but her eyes remain heartless.

“I look forward to that day.”

“I will do whatever I want,” Irina announces proudly. “No one can tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“You belong to this organization, Irina,” Hélène reminds her. “You will always have someone to answer to.”

Irina looks away grumbling, out of ammo to use against Hélène. Hélène lets out a light laugh, the announcers on the TV shouting frantically as the horses sprint down the final stretch towards the finish. Irina looks back up with resentful eyes, her brow scrunched up in anger.

“I want to see my dad.”

Hélène ignores this completely.

“Come,” she says. “It’s never a good idea to keep Marion waiting for too long.”

Hélène leads Irina through the back door. There are weight benches and racks full of dumbbells and weight plates up against one wall. A barbell rests on the stand above a bench, two 10 kg plates on either side. On the opposite wall are several cardio machines along with jump ropes and resistance bangs hanging from hooks.

“One day your targets will fight back,” Hélène says with an air of dominance.

Marion hits the heavy bag in the corner with bare knuckles, sweat dripping off her face and arms. She pants sharp and rapid breaths, her lungs burning from a long workout.

She scowls and sizes the bag up as if were an actual opponent, standing in a southpaw stance, her right leg forward. She sidesteps and ducks out of the way of shadow punches, throwing rapid combinations in response.

Cross, cross, jab. Jab, left hook.

Shuffle.

Jab, jab, right hook. Left hook, left hook, uppercut, left hook.

Switch. Sidestep.

She grunts with every punch.

Cross, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, jab, cross, left hook. Right hook. Right hook.

Switch.

She pants heavily.

Irina watches with wide eyes as Hélène scrutinizes her form under a steely gaze. 

Marion bares her teeth.

Jab, jab right hook. Left hook. Jab, cross. Jab, cross. Left hook, right hook, uppercut.

She yells.

Jab, cross, jab, left hook. Jab, right hook. Uppercut, uppercut. Right hook.

Her form starts to slip from exhaustion, her knuckles red and almost raw.

Hélène strides up to her with no fear but Marion keeps her black eyes fixed on the bag. She crouches, her heart beating a thousand beats per minute.

She grunts into a yell.

Jab, jab. Left hook.

Duck.

Left hook. Uppercut. Jab, cross, jab, right hook.

Switch.

Cross, cross, cross.

Switch.

“Marion,” Hélène interjects. 

Marion throws her punches with serious force and little form.

Left hook, left hook. Left hook. Left hook. Right hook. Cross, cross, jab, cross, jab, cross, jab, cross, left hook.

“Marion!”

She yells at the bag.

Switch.

Cross, cross, jab, cross.

Switch.

Left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook. Uppercut. Uppercut. Jab. Jab. Jab.

Jab, cross, jab, cross as fast as she can until she breaks away in a shout.

She walks away from the bag with her hands on her head, chest heaving as she sucks in air.

Irina swallows.

“You are done for the day,” Hélène tells her in French.

Marion scowls and huffs, wiping the sweat off her face with her arm then flinging it on the floor. She falls on the bench against the wall and chugs down water, forcing her body to recover as fast as possible.

Hélène turns to Irina who stands barely out of the doorway observing Marion with timid eyes.

“Irina,” she beckons.

Irina walks over slowly, eyes never leaving Marion. Marion flashes a grin through rapid pants as Irina comes to a stop on the other side of Hélène, keeping her distance from Marion.

“You wanted to try something new? How about boxing?” Hélène suggests with a wicked grin.

Irina eyes Marion apprehensively as she sits there shining in sweat, scowling.

“You are not fighting Marion,” Hélène laughs, “she will teach you the basics.”

“Very basic,” Marion says. “I think that is all you can handle.” She smirks, her heart rate decreasing some.

Irina swallows. “Okay.” She finds her confidence again. “You said I wasn’t ready for real training,” she says to Hélène, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin.

Marion leans off the wall. “Go warm up,” she orders. “Two miles. If it is not under sixteen minutes you will run more at the end.”

Irina scowls and trudges towards the treadmill, cursing under her breath in Russian.

Hélène gazes down at Marion.

“Never sacrifice form for power.”

Marion scoffs. “This is training.”

“You fight how you train.”

Marion rolls her eyes.

“When you find yourself in a fight with a stronger opponent, form is all you have. You make one error, one slip, and you will not walk away.”

Marion glares at her.

“Keep that in mind when you go to London. I wouldn’t want Villanelle to take you by surprise.”

“I would not lose to Villanelle.” Marion glares with black eyes.

Hélène shrugs nonchalantly.

“It would be unwise to underestimate her, Marion.”

“So where is the postcard? What is the job?”

“No postcard. You will keep a watch on Eve and Villanelle, in case they decide they want to be defiant.”

Marion scoffs, insulted by such a job. “That is-“

“Take some time off. Spend your money. Enjoy the city.” Hélène glares bitterly. “Reflect, on your choices.”

\--------

 **LONDON**  
Eve stirs in bed next to Villanelle, stretching her arms out and yawning lightly. She scoots closer to Villanelle and gazes at her with soft, loving eyes for a moment, watching the even rise and fall of her body.

“Why do you always stare at me when I’m asleep?” Villanelle asks with a small smile.

Eve grins. “What? I— how do you know that?”

[Cry Baby Cry – Unloved]

Villanelle smiles as she nuzzles into Eve, Eve rolling onto her back.

“Because you always watch me when you think I’m not looking,” Villanelle replies, nestling her head on Eve’s chest.

Eve lets out a laugh.

“Force of habit,” she says smiling as her cheeks flush a little.

They both shift around getting comfortable. Villanelle keeps her eyes closed and grins when Eve runs her fingers through her messy blonde hair, the morning light coming through the blinds painting stripes on her body. Eve wraps her arm around her hugging her tight, running her thumb across the scar on Villanelle’s bicep making her muscle twitch.

She watches the steady rise and fall return to Villanelle’s body.

She can be so at ease in the morning. Soft, around the edges.

Eve lightly traces her finger in a circle around the mark, not wanting to stir the peace but she’s always wondered about the other scars. How Villanelle got them, if it hurt, where she was, how old when it happened...

“How did you get the one on your back?” she asks carefully.

Villanelle clenches her jaw and sighs, remembering. Her body tenses against Eve’s.

Eve regrets asking.

Villanelle pushes off her and scoots away, Eve turning on her side so they face each other. Villanelle opens her eyes, hazel but distant, meeting Eve’s gaze.

“How long have you wanted to ask me that?”

Eve nestles a little closer.

“A while.”

Villanelle hesitates.

Normally she might make up some elaborate story, or fabricate part of it to make it more dramatic, even put on a show if she was feeling particularly playful, but lately, with Eve, it’s just easier to tell the truth.

She looks into Eve’s accepting eyes, debating for a moment.

She looks away.

“It happened in prison. The first time.” She sighs, accessing the memory. “I wanted Korovka cookies but this very large greasy woman had all of them.”

Eve tries to read Villanelle’s expressions as she tells the story.

“I tried to steal a pack from her cell during break, but, I did not do a very good job because she snuck up behind me and stabbed me with a shank made from a bedpost.”

Eve winces subtly, imagining the pain.

“Then she tried to pull it up farther, but that is not how you shank someone, so I pulled it out and hit her in the face with it. Broke her nose.” Villanelle sighs heavily, her brow furrowing. “And then there was blood everywhere, and a lockdown…and guards, running around…and…” Her eyes drift father away.

Eve caresses her cheek, trying to bring her back.

“Did it hurt?” she asks sincerely.

Villanelle detaches as she searches within for the answer. Eve runs her thumb across her jaw, already seeing the answer in her darker eyes.

Villanelle grimaces and looks away nodding, sniffling and trying to hold back tears. She takes a shaky deep breath as she closes her eyes and cringes, trying to push the feelings away.

“It’s okay to hurt, Oksana,” Eve says, watching the pain on Villanelle’s face with tender eyes.

Villanelle sniffles and lets out a deep sigh, wanting to force the feelings out of her body. She clamps her jaw and opens her desolate eyes to meet Eve’s gentle gaze. She can’t stop the tear from falling down her cheek. Eve wipes it away but Villanelle can’t look her in the eye.

“Come here,” Eve says, pulling her in closer, knowing now that Villanelle is almost always calmer when she’s lying on her chest.

Truthfully, they both feel calmer.

Villanelle snuggles up against Eve and Eve runs her fingers through her hair again.

This is also another sure way to calm Villanelle.

Eve has learned that sometimes, _sometimes_ , it’s easier just to give Villanelle what she wants.

But only sometimes.

They lie there together in the quiet morning, forgetting about the rest of the world as the day unfolds outside their flat. Villanelle shimmies around trying to get comfortable. Eve grunts when she digs her hip bone into her.

She shifts around becoming more and more restless until finally she leans up on her elbow, pushing her other hand hard against Eve’s ribs.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asks.

Eve creases her brow, confusion sweeping across her face.

“The first time I broke into your house.”

Eve stares at her, no idea what she could be referring to. Then her face softens, realizing what Villanelle is after.

“You think I’m a psychopath?” Villanelle asks, searching Eve’s quiet, still eyes for a response.

Eve chuckles lightly making Villanelle’s heart drop.

That was not the response she was expecting.

“Whatever you are, I am too,” Eve says plainly and matter-of-fact.

Villanelle grins to the side, breathing out a laugh in relief. Eve grins and brushes her falling honey-colored tresses behind her ear, stroking her cheek with her thumb. Villanelle’s eyes dart to Eve’s lips and she leans in a little closer.

“Sometimes I like killing people,” she whispers.

Eve laughs under her breath, feeling Villanelle’s jaw clench under her thumb.

“Me too,” she replies.

Villanelle laughs then flops on her back and lets out another laugh. Eve chuckles and looks over at her with exhilaration, Villanelle gazes, her face animated, her eyes hazel, the light catching them just so.

“Can you believe I wanted to kill you,” she says with a grin.

Eve lets out a chuckle. “You almost did.”

“Eve,” she says earnestly as she scoots closer.

Eve turns to her. The rays of sun shining into the flat create patterns on her skin. Villanelle traces her thumb up and down Eve’s jaw.

“We have to stop thinking about the past. There's nothing left for us back there.”

Eve’s eyes dart to the scar she left on Villanelle’s stomach. Villanelle smirks. Eve nods as she runs a nail down Villanelle’s spine making her muscles quiver and arch. She lets her fingers graze over the scar on her lower back before wrapping her arm around her.

She grins. “You are not who you used to be.”

“Neither are you,” Villanelle retorts, then smiles and licks her lips.

“Oh God.” Eve rolls away as she chuckles.

Villanelle smirks hungrily as her eyes take in Eve’s body.

“Oh, what’s that saying?” Eve mutters, closing her eyes to think. “How does it go? Uh…” She creases her brow, trying hard to remember. “Oh, oh!” Her eyes pop open.

Villanelle watches her somewhat impatiently, tongue between her teeth. Eve pauses when she meets her lustful gaze.

“Oh,” she smiles, “God, okay. Um.” She bites her lip and has to close her eyes to focus on the words, nodding her head with each syllable. “Vse menyayetsya, nichto ne ischezayet.” Her pronunciation is subpar at best. She opens her eyes expectantly but finds Villanelle staring at her with a coldness.

“Do not ever speak to me in Russian,” she says.

Eve’s smile disappears along with her playfulness. Villanelle runs her fingers over her body, digging her nails into her side.

“Все меняется, ничто не исчезает,” she repeats with a lopsided grin.

\--------

 **LONDON**  
[The Shadow’s Bride – Peter Gundry]  


Carolyn sips her whiskey as the service proceeds around her, wearing an elegant white coat for the occasion. Family and friends dressed in black with glum expressions and teary eyes chat quietly with one another, sharing fond memories and exchanging cherished stories. A collage made of photographs of Geraldine from all stages of her life is adorned with bouquets of white roses.

An older woman with kind eyes sets a foil-covered casserole dish on the table next to Carolyn.

She smiles warmly. “I am so terribly sorry. If there is anything I can do.”

Carolyn nods. “Thank you, Catharine.”

Catharine puts a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder.

“Do what you need to take care of yourself in all this.”

Carolyn forces a smile. Catharine squeezes her shoulder then ambles away. Carolyn finishes her drink and heads to the bar for another.

“Double whiskey, over ice,” she tells the bartender.

He nods and fills a new glass with ice as she rests her elbows on the counter, pressing fingers to her forehead and taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Konstantin saunters up behind her. He places his hand on her shoulder.

She doesn’t move.

“I suppose I should be upset that you’re here,” she says. The bartender sets her drink on the counter with a small grin. She takes it and turns to Konstantin. “But I can’t seem to bring myself to care at the moment.” She drinks.

He grins to one side, eyes somber.

“I will leave if that is what you want.”

She contemplates, raising her chin as she narrows her eyes at him.

“Have a drink.” She decides.

He nods.

“Shot of vodka,” he says to the bartender.

“Single or double?”

Konstantin glances at Carolyn, her face dour.

“Better make it a double,” he says with a grin as the bartender reaches for the Grey Goose.

He watches Carolyn closely as she surveys the room, not particularly wanting to engage with anyone.

“She was kindhearted and compassionate, like her father,” he offers. “And determined and strong-willed, like you.”

“Don’t talk as if you knew her. You have no right.”

The bartender sets a tall shot glass in front of Konstantin. He tosses it all back at once.

“I am sorry, Carolyn,” he says.

“As you should be.” She sighs heavily, exhausted. “As we all should be. On a day like this.” She drinks.

Konstantin nods.

“Did SIS move you somewhere safe?” he asks.

“Can either of us”—she looks him in the face—“ever truly be safe?”

He barks a laugh. “No. It is not safe for me here right now.”

“Then why are you here, Konstantin?”

He hesitates. The corner of his mouth pulls into a weak grin.

“To apologize.”

“For?”

He laughs. “There is so much.” He creases his brow and looks away, shaking his head. “I wish I would have done it all different.” He clicks his tongue. “Too many people died, and I-“

“Pain,” Carolyn utters. “Is inevitable, in this line of work.”

“You have known too much, Carolyn. And I am responsible mostly for it.”

She sets her jaw. “Don’t make me regret allowing you to stay for a drink.”

Carolyn takes a long sip of her whiskey as she scans the room. Her face hardens as her eyes land on the woman coming through the door, suddenly enraged. She tosses back her drink without looking away.

“What are you“—Konstantin looks over—"oh.”

Marion, in all black, slinks over carrying a large bouquet of white lilies. She weaves her way through mourning family members, Carolyn glaring at her frigidly as she approaches.

“Hélène sends her condolences,” Marion offers with sympathy that almost feels genuine. She sets the bouquet carefully on the table.

“You have no business being here,” Carolyn states, her stare piercing into Marion. 

Marion nods solemnly. “I was in Budapest at the time.” She gestures at Konstantin. “With his daughter.”

Konstantin glowers. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“But I did not come to cause trouble. I know this must be a difficult day for you, Carolyn.”

“What was so urgent that you felt compelled to come to London, here, to disrupt my daughter’s service?” Carolyn retorts hotly.

“I do not wish to disrupt anything,” Marion says. “But Konstantin knows he cannot be in London.”

Konstantin frowns. “Please. Not here.”

“Of course, not here. Even I know what is and what is not appropriate for a setting like this.”

“Then remove yourself,” Carolyn states forcefully, with hostility.

Marion nods. “I have to take him with me.”

Konstantin puts up his hands. “I will go,” he says as Carolyn and Marion share an icy look.

Marion eases. “I am sorry you lost your daughter, Carolyn.”

“Leave. Marion,” Carolyn replies.

Marion nods. She flicks her eyes at Konstantin and points her chin towards the door.

“Let’s go. We have both overstayed our welcome.”

“Where are-”

“No questions,” she snaps. “Until we are outside. Go.”

Konstantin trudges past her towards the door while Carolyn glares at her, wrath emanating from every part of her.

Marion’s eyes soften by a fraction.

“There is always light, at the end of the tunnel.”

She turns and leaves Carolyn in a cloud of anger, grabbing Konstantin’s coat and leading him to the door without a word.

They walk down the sidewalk in the crisp early spring air.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks.

Marion smiles insincerely. “Mm…” She debates. “In light of recent events…” She stops and fixes her hair in a store window.

Konstantin puts his hands on his hips, his mouth pressed into a thin lip, little patience left for her behavior.

She turns to him. “In light of recent events and your good behavior, after The Twelve almost killed you because you tried to make a plan to secretly leave the organization. Hélène has decided…that…mm…” She drags it out as much as possible.

“If you are going to kill me make it quick.”

“Kill you?” Marion laughs. “In front of a memorial service? I am not completely out of my mind, Konstantin.” She shrugs. “You get to see your daughter. À Paris.”

His face drops. “Irina.”

Marion nods.

“This isn’t a joke?”

“This is not a joke,” she echoes.

He swallows as his heart beats harder.

Marion nods towards the street. “Get in the Jaguar.”

He waits for her to lead the way.

“What?” She shakes her head. “I am not going with you.”

\-------- [The Ground – Unloved]

**LONDON**

Eve walks through the door of the gastropub. The walls are exposed red brick, the floors scuffed oak, and there are chalkboards behind the bar with drinks and daily specials scribbled on them.

The whole place looks like it could use a good wipe down.

Today, Eve wears dark grey trousers and an olive-green cashmere turtleneck under her coat. Her curls are a little on the wild side today. She slides her purse off her shoulder, a small shopping bag tucked inside, and sits across from Elena.

“This place?” She looks around skeptically. “It’s a little-”

“They have bottomless mimosas on Tuesdays.”

Eve laughs, noticing the mimosa already on the table for her.

Elena smiles. “I figured you’d want one. I’m already on my second.”

Eve creases her brow. “I thought you said one?”

“I did. I was only waiting for ten minutes.”

Eve lets out a chuckle and shakes her head, glad to be in the company of her friend. She takes a sip of her mimosa.

“Mm, Jesus.” She grimaces.

“What?”

“No, I just never have orange juice in it.”

“Oh good,” Elena grins, “I thought you were going to say the quality wasn’t good enough for you.”

Eve scrunches her brow. “What?”

“Hasn’t Villanelle spoilt you? What with all the stupid expensive champagne and designer clothes, I mean what are you wearing, Eve?”

Eve looks down at her outfit. “It’s just a sweater.”

“It’s obviously cashmere and your boots are Valentino.”

Eve shrugs. “So?”

“So? _I_ would kill someone for those. They probably cost more than all my paychecks for the past six months.”

Eve scowls, slightly off-put by that remark.

“Elena.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s just…a year ago you would’ve worn the same four shirts to work and not cared what they matched with, but now-“

“Now, what?”

”Now.” Elena sighs. “I don’t know. Now…it’s… all different.” She finishes her mimosa.

Eve runs a hand over her head. “Well Villanelle got rid of all my other stuff.” She throws up a hand. “So it’s either Fendi, Valentino, or Givenchy.”

“She threw out your things?” Elena asks, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, not all at once though. It was weird. Like she must have done it slowly over time or something,” Eve says, more stimulated by the thought than anything else.

“That’s a bit of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Eve asks.

“I mean that’s narcissistic manipulation at its finest, Eve.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it?”

Eve tries to defend herself.

“Villanelle and I-“

“Don’t operate like the rest of us. Yeah I said it.”

Eve leans back in her seat, brows raised.

Elena looks away at her drink. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have had one of these before you got here,” she mumbles.

“Elena.” Eve’s voice cuts.

Elena sighs. “It’s not bad really. Sometimes I wish I could be that bold, and confident about it too. I just”—she shakes her head—“I can’t understand how you’re shagging her, after all that’s gone on between the two of you.”

Eve scoffs. “My relationship with Vill-“

“Oh, relationship?” Elena groans. “God, Eve.”

Eve throws up her hands in frustration.

“No, I just can’t believe you’re actually together living in the same flat as her. I mean, she shot you in the back and you stabbed her with a knife, Eve.”

A waitress brings Elena another very full mimosa with wide eyes having caught the tail end of that sentence. Eve flicks her dark eyes at her, a hint of malice in them. She sets the drink on the table then backs away slowly.

Elena takes a long sip.

“That’s probably just foreplay for you two though isn't it?”

Eve leans in with a savage grin.

“Oh Elena, the way-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, really.”

Eve laughs and takes a drink, wanting to navigate out of the tension.

“You don’t want to know the details?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

Elena tries to glare but a smile spreads across her face.

“You know I do, but only after about five more of these.”

Eve grins. Elena rolls her eyes.

“Do you know what Bill would say about all this?” she asks.

Eve’s expression softens.

Elena leans in and drops her voice. “I bloody knew Eve fancied her.”

Eve laughs and runs her hands through her curls. She shakes her head and smiles thinking of Bill saying those exact words.

“God, he’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Elena narrows her eyes at Eve.

“You really do though, don’t you?”

Eve bites her nail.

“Oh God, Eve.” Elena shakes her head and drinks her mimosa.

Eve chuckles. “Okay. Enough about Villanelle.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words,” Elena replies with a grin.

Eve rolls her eyes and rests her arms on the table, her face turning more serious.

“How much do you know about the operation?” she asks.

Elena groans.

“Who are the other people involved?” Eve presses.

“Ah, let me get food at least.”

“What, we’re eating here?”

“I’ll be smashed if I don’t eat something soon,” Elena replies.

“Well the waitress already thinks we’re a couple of nutjobs,” Eve says with a chuckle.

“She’s not wrong to think that.”

Eve lets out a laugh. “Come on, you have to know something. What’ve you been doing since Moscow?”

“Same thing really. Putting together intel to try to track down The Twelve. Just a bit more discreet so I don’t get murdered.”

“How are you getting intel? Who’s hacking the servers and databases?”

“Don’t know.”

“Elena.”

“I don’t. I don’t know any of the sources. That’s how it is now.”

Eve scoffs in disappointment.

“I know.” Elena nods. “Why do you think I found this place?”

Eve finishes her drink.

“What about Jess?” she asks.

“Carolyn moved her…to the clean-up team…after…”

“Rome?”

“Yeah, thank you. Wasn’t sure how to go about that.”

Eve leans back in her chair pondering on this.

“So she would know what actually happened at Carolyn’s,” she says, more to herself.

Elena groans. “Ah, let me have a bite first.” She glances towards the waitress who very obviously avoids her gaze. “She really isn’t coming back over here any time soon is she?”

“It’s been almost a week, the reports should be back by now,” Eve says, her mind only on work.

“If I was on that team you know I’d give you something,” Elena replies.

Eve drums her fingers on the table.

“And it’s her daughter you know?” Elena mutters. “After Kenny already…”

Eve’s fingers stop.

“If they’re connected, we need to know.”

“Doesn’t it all lead back to The Twelve anyways?”

Eve glances at the waitress as she thinks, her dark eyes assessing the woman. She senses Eve’s gaze and looks over, reluctantly making her way back to their table.

Eve switches her attention back to Elena.

“The more we know the easier it’ll be when we have to act.”

“Look, all I know is that things are definitely dodgy and some highly questionable trades have gone on. Why else wouldn’t they want us to have all the information?”

\-------- [Love – Unloved]

Villanelle prances around Bond Street carrying more and more shopping bags as she makes her way all the way down then back up the street.

Loewe, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Givenchy, Marina Rinaldi, Burberry

She got bored five minutes after Eve left and decided that buying very extravagant and expensive items might make her feel better, especially since she was choosing items for Eve, then a few for herself, but mostly Eve, or that’s how it started anyway.

Always thinking of Eve.

She wears a black Balmain jumpsuit, six gold buttons on the front, and Saint Laurent heels with the heels themselves being made of the letters YSL. Her straight blonde hair is tossed effortlessly behind her shoulders. Her last stop after Burberry is Boodles, the luxury jewelry store. She drags all her bags inside with her almost getting caught in the doorway, the salesclerk behind the counter watching with big eyes.

Villanelle narrows her eyes at her as she walks inside.

“We can store those while you shop if you’d like?” the woman says with a bright smile.

“Did you expect me to hold them while I try on rings?” Villanelle replies in a high-pitched Scouse accent.

Then she drops the bags to the ground and glides over to the counter, entirely captivated by a ring beneath the glass.

“What is that one?” she asks, her voice returning to normal.

A younger woman collects her bags and disappears into a side room.

The salesclerk, Karina as her name tag indicates, pulls out a rock of a blue sapphire for Villanelle.

“This is the 21.08 carat royal blue sapphire ring. Vintage.”

She slips it off the holder and gently hands it to Villanelle who slides it on her right ring finger. She holds her hand out admiring the deep blue sapphire and the many diamonds that surround it, wiggling her fingers. The door opens but her eyes staying glued to the jewel as the light shimmers off it.

“What a coincidence,” Marion says as she slinks up to her. “Is that for you or for her?”

Villanelle turns sharply.

“I have always wondered what it would feel like to hit someone with a diamond ring.”

“Uh.” Karina eyes them nervously.

Marion laughs. “It is like kicking with a stiletto.”

Villanelle and Marion face off like wolves, practically growling at each other.

Karina feels the tension creeping around the room.

“Um, maybe-“

Villanelle flashes her a warm grin that is more unnerving than comforting given the energy of the room. She slips off the ring and sets it back in its holder, smiling over-the-top with her eyes. Karina quickly replaces it under the glass as Marion leans back against the counter and peers down at the dazzling diamonds and gemstones.

“Did Hélène send you?” Villanelle asks, eyes darkening.

“This is pleasure.” Marion gives Villanelle a smug grin. “Not business.” She glances back down at the jewels. “Eve hardly wears jewelry, unless it is her wedding ring.”

Villanelle ignores the slight.

“Where are your luxury items?” she asks Karina who is perspiring, clearly uncomfortable by the both of them.

“Uh…” Karina fumbles.

“Do you see what she is wearing?” Marion cuts in, flashing an outraged look at the woman because being dressed in Villanelle’s outfit should grant you access anywhere.

“Right, em. This way.”

Even behind the counter, Karina leaves some distance between Villanelle as she leads her to the backroom, Marion following behind.

The cases against the walls contain opulent jewelry made of diamonds in white, pink, and yellow, sapphires in oval, round, and square cuts, emeralds of the richest greens, and rubies of the warmest reds, all set in brilliant gold and silver. Marion goes for the rubies while Villanelle goes for the emeralds near the sapphires. They quickly snap their heads over their shoulders then flick their eyes at Karina. Her eyes dart to the security cameras then between the two of them with their wild eyes.

She swallows. “Um. I’ll…let you both browse then.”

Marion and Villanelle flash equally charming and unsettling smiles. Karina slips out of the room willing to chance being robbed of millions of euros in jewelry than choosing to spend another second in a small room with those two.

They lock their eyes on each other.

“You know if you want to look at me all the time,” Villanelle shrugs, “you could just ask for a picture.”

“I don’t like watching you.” Marion slinks up to Villanelle. “But if you have a picture of Eve…” She smirks.

Villanelle clenches her jaw as her nostrils flare.

“She has a tight hold on you,” Marion says, raising her brow to try to get a rise out of Villanelle.

“What do you want?” Villanelle growls.

Marion shrugs and throws up her hands like the answer to that question is far beyond words.

“An invitation to the wedding?”

All of Villanelle’s muscles tense. “Are you jealous?” she asks, stalking towards Marion. “Because you have no one who cares about you? No one who wonders or worries about you, hm?”

Marion scowls, venom in her eyes. Her neck tics.

“Jealous of being tied down by a much older woman?” she retorts.

“Because your relationship with Hélène is…?” Villanelle shrugs and looks around the room. She wonders how hard it would be to smash Marion’s face through the presumably bulletproof glass.

“You think Eve will keep you entertained forever?” Marion questions. “That you will never grow bored of her?”

“Eve will always be amusing to me. She does crazy things, all the time, just for me,” Villanelle says proudly.

“Then when all this is over, what will you do, huh? There will be no more jobs, for either of you. No orders to kill, no operations to interfere with. Nothing.” Marion prowls closer. “Do you ever think about, after? Villanelle.”

“I think about what it would be like after I killed you.”

Marion chuckles as she leers at Villanelle.

“Don’t you wonder when The Twelve fall, who will take their power?”

Villanelle glares back, unaffected by Marion’s question. They both calculate ways to disarm the other.

“There will be so much to take,” Marion goes on. “Money. Cars, jets, mansions. And control. Over people, cities, countries…” She flusters herself thinking of all the possibilities.

Villanelle’s hands form fists then release. That is an enticing proposition.

Marion smirks. “There is enough to go around, for both of us,” she shrugs, “Eve too. Unless, you think…she is holding you back?”

“I don’t want any of those things,” Villanelle retorts, trying to convince herself just as much as Marion.

“No? Then what are you doing here? Looking at luxury jewelry in Boodles,” Marion replies leering at Villanelle. “Wearing Balmain, and Saint Laurent.”

Villanelle’s eyes flicker with fury. “After this is done, I don’t ever want to see you again. Unless I am smashing your face into the pavement.”

Marion laughs then puts her hand over her heart. “Mm, Villanelle, you break my heart.”

“I will break your neck,” Villanelle retorts, giving Marion an exaggerated smile.

“It is a shame that we did not meet earlier,” Marion says, letting her eyes drift to Villanelle’s lips as she bites her own. “I think we could have had a lot of fun together.”

“Maybe if you didn’t lose control and get banned from working in Europe, we could have.” She raises her brows. “You have a reputation too. Marion.”

Marion’s black eyes fill with disdain. She tears herself away.

“Blue sapphire will look good on her.” She nods. “In a white gold band of course.” She steps backwards running her nails on the glass case. “Tell Eve I say hello.” She grins smugly, Villanelle growling at her. 

Marion turns on her heel for the door, pausing in the doorway.

“Oh, and”—she glances over her shoulder—“good luck.” Her smile almost reaches her eyes. “To both of you.”

\--------

 **CHARTRES**  
[Gnossienne No. 3 – Erik Satie]

Konstantin stands on the stone sidewalk, hands jammed in his pockets in the brisk air. Notre-Dame towers over the square, construction cranes and scaffolding rising up beside it. The clicking of heels grows louder behind him.

His heart drops.

He turns.

“Konstantin.” Hélène grins. “It has been some time since we saw each other last.”

He swallows. “Where is she?”

“Finishing an assignment.”

His heart falters. He frowns.

”For her academics,” Hélène says with a smirk, marveling up at the medieval Catholic cathedral. “It is important to appreciate the history of other cultures. Their art and architecture.”

Konstantin doesn’t reply. He presses his lips in a thin line.

Hélène glances back over at him then waves at a bench.

“Shall we sit?”

Konstantin grudgingly takes a seat on the edge of the bench. Hélène smiles and remains standing.

“How is your heart?” she asks.

His lip twitches.

“Getting worse all the time.” He barks a laugh.

“I was hoping some time off would help you recover.”

“The stress never goes away.” He shakes his head. No matter what I do, it is always there.”

“You have to learn to manage your responsibilities better.” Hélène slips her hands in her pockets as she gazes pensively at the cathedral. “You have been doing well for us, Konstantin. Following orders exactly. No more undisclosed planning for personal interests.”

“Where is Irina?” he demands.

“She will be here in a moment.” Hélène looks back at him with stone-cold eyes. 

“Irina is such a smart girl, dedicated to her studies. Always wanting to be perfect in everything that she does.”

Konstantin swallows and shifts around, keeping his eyes on Hélène, watching her.

“It is incredible, the way she can fluently transition between languages,” Hélène says with a light laugh. “She is so gifted, but not only in those, in sciences and maths too.”

Konstantin lets out a laugh. “Being smart was supposed to give her a way out.”

Hélène grins, pulling a photograph out of the inner pocket of her blazer.

“Do you know what is more inconspicuous than a female assassin, Konstantin?” She hands him a black and white photograph of Irina stabbing Kristóf at the dinner table. Rodavan, Marion, and Saverio also in the frame. “Devushka-ubiytsa.” A young girl assassin.

He scrunches his brow trying to process what his eyes see. The carving fork, the blood, the puncture wounds in Kristóf’s throat. His hand drifts to his heart, thumping harder in his chest. He clutches his jacket.

Hélène smiles wickedly, taking pleasure in his agony.

Konstantin’s hand trembles. “Why?” He looks away, shaking his head. “Why did you do this to her?”

“I am not going to get in the way of someone reaching their full potential,” Hélène says with a shrug. “Irina is one of the best recruits this organization has had in a long time.”

Konstantin scowls, crumpling up the photograph in his fist. He gazes up at Hélène with contempt.

“You already have enough.”

“Change is on the horizon, Konstantin.” Hélène grins. “Revolutions always begin and end in blood.” 

Irina wanders over from across the square, smiling when she sees Konstantin, breaking into almost a run.

“Papa!”

He stands, shoving the photo in his pocket, smiling at her, his eyes a blend of relief, joy, and misery.

Irina runs up and they embrace in a warm hug. He wraps his arms around her, not wanting to let go.

“Irina,” he huffs in her ear, holding her tighter.

She sinks into him for only a second before pulling away.

They talk in Russian.

“I have so much to tell you,” Irina says, bouncing with excitement. “The stuff I’ve been learning is crazy. Like, Marion showed me how to kill someone with a pencil.” She laughs with delight.

“Enjoy your time together.” Hélène flashes Konstantin a smile. “It will be brief.” She turns and glides away.

Irina plops herself on the bench, Konstantin sitting slowly, evaluating his daughter. She looks older in the face and her eyes are muted some.

“What else do they teach you?” he asks.

“All sorts of things,” Irina says, eyes lighting up some.

“Do they keep you in school?”

“School is so boring.” Irina rolls her eyes. “The other lessons are way more fun. Like last week I learned which compounds to mix together to make different poisons, and where all the major blood vessels are.”

“Irina.”

“And working with Marion is so crazy. She is like, actually insane. Did you know she has killed way more people than Villanelle?”

“Irina.” Konstantin worries. “Marion is a very dangerous person.”

“I know.” Irina laughs. “She breaks things all the time. It’s so funny to piss her off.” She scoots closer. “Like the other day, she threw a kettlebell into a huge mirror because I only responded to her in Icelandic.” She laughs harder.

He grimaces, deeply troubled by his daughter’s flippant attitude.

“Dad. You don’t need to worry about me.” Irina dismisses. “I’m fine.”

Konstantin cringes and shakes his head. “You should be at home.”

“Where?” Irina counters. Her mood shifts from cheery to somber. “I know what happened to mom.”

Konstantin hangs his head trying to fight the despair to stay strong for her.

“I am so sorry,” he huffs.

Irina leans away, uneasy seeing her father like this.

“Dad?”

He looks up at her, sniffing back anguish. “I am sorry I could not protect you and your mother, Irina.” His voice is gruff.

She stays quiet, looks down at her hands, fidgeting with the loose thread on her sleeve for a long time.

“I miss her.”

Konstantin nods with a frown, relieved to hear she still feels a connection to family and home. He takes her hand.

“I am so sorry.”

She doesn’t look up, eyes on the crack in the concrete.

“It was never supposed to turn out like this,” he says, grimacing.

“I can’t go with you, can I?”

“No.” He frowns, scrunching his brow and battling his emotions. “Not right now.” He sniffs. “But I am working on a way for you to go back to Moscow, very soon.”

Irina looks over at him, downhearted, eyes teary. 

“Would I get to live with you?”

“Yes.” He sniffles and forces a smile. “Hopefully. That is what I want.”

“Me too sometimes,” she says quietly, rubbing her eyes and trying hard not to cry. “I don’t know why I killed those people. I think I wanted to, but…” She sniffs. “I don’t know.” Her emotions torment her. “I’m sorry.”

Konstantin grimaces and sniffs sharply, fending off tears. “It’s okay.” He huffs. “You are my daughter, I love you no matter what.”

He puts his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. She nods against his scratchy coat, shutting her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek.

“Do I have to stay in Paris forever?” she asks. Her voice shakes. She pulls away and quickly wipes the tears from her cheeks.

The corner of his lips tremble seeing her like this, in this situation, that he himself caused.

“Only for now.”

She lets out a sigh and tries to regain control of her emotions.

He takes her hand and looks at her head-on. “You keep learning, as much as you can. Focus on what they teach you in your classes. That will help you later on.”

Irina nods as she gazes off at the large rose window of the cathedral.

“Be smart, and listen to them,” Konstantin says. “Do what they tell you, don’t argue. And hey, look at me.”

Irina looks over, eyes detached. He places his large hand on her cheek.

“You do not aggravate Marion or try to make her angry.” He pleads with his eyes. “Stay on her good side, and Hélène’s. Okay?”

Irina nods.

He creases his brow, suffering on the inside.

“I love you, Irina.”

She looks down at the ground.

“I love you too.”

\--------

 **LONDON**  
Eve wanders around the flat with her chin in the crook of her hand as she thinks, anxiously playing with the modest blue sapphire ring on her right ring finger. She’s wearing a tank and a pair of Villanelle’s joggers. She likes them more than her own and Villanelle never seems to care when she wears them.

Villanelle watches her, lying on her side in bed, propped up on her elbow. She’s in a vibrant purple kimono featuring beautiful white cranes and gold ornamentation. A simple vertical gold bar necklace hangs down from around her neck.

Eve and Villanelle exchanged gifts earlier in the evening.

Villanelle came home with endless shopping bags but Eve surprised her with a small jewelry box at which Villanelle first scoffed then smiled while trying to act uninterested. Then she proceeded to put on an entire production about how Eve upstaged her having brought all these gifts home for her and quite possibly ruined the entire moment to which Eve did not react but simply responded, “Open it.”

And then Villanelle did and her heart beat a little faster at the simple elegance of the necklace and she did not say another word for quite a bit of time after the initial breathy “Oh.”

Then after the necklace was on her neck, which Eve had to help her with even though she did not want help but knew she needed it, she had Eve open a jewelry box that was somehow bigger than the one Eve gave her even though a ring is smaller than a necklace.

And naturally Villanelle pointed out that this ring was from Boodles at which Eve rolled her eyes then proceeded to open the box and swallowed hard upon seeing the stunning blue sapphire, more modest than the one Villanelle first tried on but that one is in a bag along with an emerald ring and a few other diamond somethings somewhere.

And then Eve let out a shaky “Um” as she slid the ring on her finger which fit perfectly and she was going to act like it was entirely over-the-top but seeing that blue gem on her finger definitely made her palms sweat some.

And so then she looked at Villanelle and Villanelle looked at her and Villanelle was going to have her try on all the thousands of euros worth of clothes she just bought but what’s the point of making Eve put on clothes if really all she wants is them off her anyways so then Villanelle smirked at Eve and Eve grinned back and one thing led to another…and…well…

[Love Lost – Unloved]

Villanelle scrapes the last bite of strawberries and cream out of a takeaway box and pops it in her mouth. She’s ordered Eton mess from four different restaurants now trying to find the best London has to offer.

Eve thinks they all taste the same.

Villanelle watches her fret in the kitchen with a raised brow as she licks the last bit of meringue off the spoon.

“Are you going to do that all night?”

Eve pauses and glances over.

“We can’t do anything else until we know where we’re meeting our teams.” She shrugs. “Or try to plan for after.”

“I know so many other things we could be doing right now,” Villanelle says, licking a finger.

Eve ignores this, knowing the one other thing that always seems to be on Villanelle’s mind. She sighs and rubs her forehead with a groan, glancing out the window at the black night. A few city lights shine bright in the darkness.

Villanelle scans over Eve, evaluating her posture and her demeanor. Eve sighs again and turns, meeting Villanelle’s gaze.

“I don’t know what we’re going to get when we meet with our teams.” She runs her hand over her curls. “But if it’s what we think it is, then I need to tell you something.“

Villanelle furrows her brow.

“Just listen to me for a second.”

Villanelle sits up straighter in bed.

Eve lets out a long sigh. “If we’re on different teams then that means we’re doing different things, probably in different places.”

Villanelle nods.

They’ve talked about this.

“And I don’t know what it’s going to be but it’s probably not going to be anything easy at this point.”

Villanelle nods.

They’ve talked about this too.

She studies Eve, concern growing in her eyes.

“And…” Eve drops her shoulders. “Look-“

Villanelle groans. “No. Don’t.”

“What?”

“The part where you say”—she switches into a mocking tone—“no matter what happens, go and never look back.”

Eve gazes at her, tender but somber, eyes taking in every part of her. Her messy blonde hair, the faint glow of her skin, her soft eyes. She walks over.

“Just listen to me.”

“No, Eve.”

Eve sighs, a sadness behind her eyes. “If anything goes wrong, you have to just go, Villanelle.”

Villanelle shifts around, uncomfortable by the thought. She almost glares at Eve, upset by her words.

“I don’t know why you think you have to tell me this,” she says, brows raised. “You know I will leave you.”

“Except that you won’t,” Eve says. Her voice is clear, calm. 

Villanelle deflects. “You leave.”

Eve sits down on the bed next to her, looking at her in the most loving way.

“I don’t even want it to come to that,” she says. “But if it does-”

“It won’t.”

“It could.”

“It won’t.”

“Just-“

“No.”

Villanelle looks away, sniffling and holding back tears. Eve furrows her brow in worry and takes her hand, holding it tight. Villanelle intertwining their fingers and squeezes Eve’s hand harder, fingertips turning red from her grip, but she doesn’t look over.

Eve keeps her breathing slow and under control.

“Villanelle,” she tries.

She shakes her head and refuses to look over, tears hovering in her eyes. Eve sighs, unsure of what to say. Her phone rings once on the kitchen table but she doesn’t move.

“Go.” Villanelle sniffs. “Check it. It could be something important.”

Eve doesn’t move.

Villanelle clenches her jaw. When she finally looks back over at Eve her eyes are distant and full of heartache.

They gaze into each other.

Eve reluctantly releases her hand and gets up slowly. She takes one step towards the kitchen then turns back around and takes Villanelle’s face, kissing her fully but gently on the lips. Villanelle melts into her, holding her hand over Eve’s on her cheek.

They kiss, a long single kiss.

Eve leans away, looking intently into Villanelle’s eyes.

“You are so dramatic,” Villanelle murmurs just above a whisper.

Eve lets out a laugh and smiles. She stays close to Villanelle.

“Go.” Villanelle nods. “Check it already.”

Eve strokes her cheek then pulls away. Villanelle watches her, heart beating harder at the thought of leaving her. She forces the thought far away and out of her mind.

Eve’s shoulders drop in disappointment from what she reads on her phone.

“It’s just Elena. No new updates.”

She sets her phone down and bites the inside of her cheek as Villanelle moves around restlessly in bed then sighs, trying to push her feelings away.

Their energies both shift in different directions.

Eve wanders around the flat, slowly making her way back towards Villanelle.

“When do you think we’ll find out?” she asks. “It has to be soon.” She looks around, eyes not really taking anything in. “How many other teams do you think there are? How many people?”

Villanelle rolls her eyes. “Who cares.”

Eve pauses and glances over, eyes darker. Villanelle bites down on her lip and looks back with big eyes.

That was the wrong thing to say.

She attempts to amend.

“I care that we are on different teams…” She trails off almost making it a question.

Eve scoffs a laugh then shakes her head, running her hand through her curls.

“Why isn’t Carolyn just giving us all the information? What more could there be?” She anxiously glances over at her phone on the dining table almost expecting it to ring with a new message.

“I don’t know why you keep checking it when it doesn’t ring,” Villanelle comments.

Eve throws up her hands in frustration. Villanelle laughs, amused by this reaction. Eve grabs her wine glass from beside the phone and turns, glaring over the glass as she drinks.

Villanelle shrinks, looking back with raised brows and wide eyes trying to act innocent. She takes a deep breath. “O-kay,” she sighs out.

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?” Eve asks.

“Why are you _so_ concerned about this?”

“What if Carolyn has an ulterior motive? What if this is all a ploy for some other plan she has?”

Villanelle huffs, nostrils flared, frustrated that Eve is in the kitchen getting herself more worked up instead of in bed next to her.

“You really think that’s what is going on?” she asks.

“Honestly.” Eve throws up her hand. “I don’t know anymore.” She paces around more flustered than before.

Villanelle eyes her, deciding the best tactic.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Eve stops.

“I think…” Villanelle holds her breath, then lets it out in a gust. “That you would feel better if you got back into bed with me.” She smirks and pats the mattress.

Eve’s eyes darken further.

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you think?”

That was the wrong tactic.

Eve scoffs. “I thought you were actually going to say something helpful.”

“What?” Villanelle shrugs. “That would not be helpful?”

“Oh my God.” Eve shuts her eyes to concentrate.

Villanelle exhales a heavy breath letting it vibrate her lips on the way out. Her eyes get big as she works on what to try next.

“Mmm, okay. What if-“

Eve snaps her head over, cutting Villanelle off.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she whines.

Eve huffs. “What.”

“If you had let me finish.” Villanelle glares. “I was going to say…” She switches into a more compassionate tone. “That I will have a drink with you. And help you talk through your thoughts.”

Eve’s shoulders drop. “Oh.”

She goes to retrieve the bottle from the kitchen.

“If you bring the bottle to me,” Villanelle says. “In bed.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eve turns sharply. “No.”

Villanelle glares at her with her jaw set. “I don’t understand this and it’s frustrating to me.” She raises her voice with each word.

They stare at each other.

Eve sighs.

“You just don’t know what it’s like being on this side of an operation.”

Villanelle stands. “I don’t know what it’s like?” she asks with raised brows, insulted Eve could even think to say that.

Eve rubs her forehead.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Villanelle stalks towards her.

“We worked together on the operation against Aaron Peel.”

“That was different,” Eve deflects.

“How was that different?” Villanelle asks. “I think I actually did _more_ work in that one.”

“Okay, you know what?” Eve snaps making Villanelle stop in her tracks.

They stare at one another with wild eyes, unsure of the other’s next move.

“This isn’t helping.” Eve shakes her head.

Villanelle changes her demeanor. She smiles sweetly, trying to be more alluring.

“Eve.” Her voice drips with sultry seduction. She slinks towards Eve, her eyes locked on her lips. “Eve, Eve, Eve.”

Eve stifles a grin as Villanelle glides up to her, swiveling her hips with a lascivious smirk on her face. She holds her wine glass out to the side, trying to prevent yet another glass from being shattered on this floor. Villanelle grabs her hips and pulls their bodies into one another, running her fingers through Eve’s curls and smiling, eyes darting to her lips.

Eve shuts her eyes, leaning in.

“I don’t think so,” she says, lips nearly brushing against Villanelle’s.

”What?” Villanelle leans away, taken aback.

“Not happening.”

“Really?” Villanelle asks, narrowing her eyes, dipping her chin in again.

Eve pulls away.

“Sex is your way of trying to get out of everything.”

“Yeah.” Villanelle nods. “Because it works almost all of the time.”

“Yeah well, not this time.”

Villanelle groans. “Eve.” She sighs dramatically. “Don’t be like this.”

Eve walks away leaving Villanelle very disappointed but she doesn’t relent.

“You know you want to.”

Eve chuckles as she takes a sip of wine. “No.”

“Umm, yes.”

Eve shakes her head with a grin.

“Come on. Just a little bit?” Villanelle tries.

“No.”

“Okay a lot a bit.”

Eve laughs. “No.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes at Eve, a fiery look in them.

“What if…I…” She runs her fingers under the collar of her kimono while she pulls on the tie with her other hand. “Hm?”

Eve hides a smile behind a sip of wine.

Villanelle lets the silky purple fabric peek open the smallest bit as she locks her fervid hazel eyes on Eve.

It is almost working.

Eve has to try her hardest to keep her eyes up on Villanelle’s, not letting them drift any lower than that. She refuses to give Villanelle the satisfaction.

Villanelle raises her brows. “Hm.”

She glides up to Eve keeping the slit in the fabric barely shut. Eve works to contain the fire Villanelle has now started ablaze in her. One flicker of her eyes and it’s over. She casually takes another sip of wine as Villanelle stands in front of her smiling as charmingly as possible. She lets the kimono fall completely open.

“Oops.” She smirks and tilts her head to the side.

Eve clenches her jaw fighting every burning desire to look down at Villanelle’s bare body.

She shrugs. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The ring of hazel around Villanelle’s pupil darkens a shade.

“Really?” she asks in disbelief.

“Mhm,” Eve forces through clamped lips, resolute on not giving Villanelle what she wants.

This time at least.

Eve tears herself away, eyeing Villanelle lecherously as she walks by her. Villanelle throws the kimono closed and crosses her arms.

“That is not fair.” She scowls. “You are sending too many mixed signals!”

Eve leaves her glass on the table and runs both hands through her curls then holds them on the back of her head as Villanelle flops down on the bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“I have to know what’s going on,” Eve says.

“It’s so hard for you.” Villanelle laughs. “Not knowing everything.”

Eve scoffs. “Why are you making this more difficult?”

“Because. You are being so annoying about it,” Villanelle replies, losing her temper.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t let it go.” Eve huffs. “It’s killing me.”

“It’s _killing_ you,” Villanelle mocks. She barks a laugh.

Eve fumes.

Villanelle stares at the ceiling avoiding her gaze. “Whatever is important for us to know, they will tell us. Who cares about the rest.” She groans, very frustrated that Eve is still not in bed next to her.

Eve grumbles. “If Marion is already in London…I mean, what if she killed Carolyn? And that’s why we haven’t gotten any updates?”

“Eve, are you being serious? She wouldn’t.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t?”

“No.” Villanelle leans up on her elbows, silky fabric sliding off her chest. “She knows Carolyn is leading the operation.” She watches Eve throw a sweater on over her tank, eyes easily finding the scar on her back. “Why are you putting more clothes on?”

“I’m going over there.”

Villanelle pouts. “No, Eve. Wait.” She flings herself out of bed. “What about-“

“Oh my God, Villanelle, it can wait.” Eve shoves her feet into boots.

Villanelle scowls as she watches Eve jog down the stairs.

“If you can’t,” Eve calls over her shoulder, “then use your imagination!”

“I will!” Villanelle yells after her. “And it will be better than if you were here!”

\--------

Eve knocks on the red front door of Carolyn’s house then tries the handle. It’s unlocked. She glances around before walking inside. It’s eerily quiet except for the faint sound of…frogs?

She peers into the living room. It’s like a tornado hit. Books have been thrown off the shelves, records shattered on the ground, and the coffee table has been thrown on its side. She analyzes the mess with a creased brow, studying it, imagining how it happened. She steps carefully to the kitchen to discover broken glass scattered everywhere. A lot. At least six glasses worth. And a large bottle. Most likely whiskey given the dark liquid on the floor.

Eve stands there for a moment listening to the sounds coming from upstairs before treading up slowly, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter with each step.

The croaking of frogs increases in volume.

[Boy and Girl (Instrumental) – Unloved]

Carolyn lies on the couch in her study holding a pillow over her head. Eve watches her chest. It rises and falls. She’s still breathing.

“Carolyn?” Eve asks, slipping her bag off her shoulder.

Carolyn’s chest rises as she inhales a deep breath, sighing it out and removing the pillow. Her eyes are bone-tired.

“Eve.”

“Um, are you okay?” Eve asks with curiosity in her eyes.

Carolyn sits up with some effort.

“I’m fine.”

Eve eyes the decanter of whiskey and the full glass on the coffee table getting the feeling that she most definitely is not fine. She furrows her brow as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch.

“Why are you here, this time?” Carolyn asks sounding exhausted.

“Honestly, to make sure you’re still alive.”

“Not to seek information regarding the death of my daughter?”

Eve pauses.

“Well. Did any of the reports come back yet?” She cringes though not feeling guilty.

Carolyn breathes evenly. She nods at the decanter.

“You’ll need a drink.”

Eve creases her brow. “What?”

Carolyn slides the bottle towards her. There’s another glass on the table as if she were only awaiting Eve’s arrival. She waits for Eve to pour herself a drink before saying another word.

“Uh, okay then.”

Eve pours herself a generous amount from the heavy glass container and drinks. Carolyn grabs her glass and does the same.

“So?” Eve asks impatiently.

Carolyn takes a breath to collect her thoughts. To decide. She takes another sip.

“The autopsy report came back as you’d expect.”

“Okay. What about the graphology?” Eve asks.

Carolyn pauses.

“It wasn’t The Twelve.”

“What-, uh, they’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Eve scrunches her brow not following. She looks off to the side trying to put it all together but she’s missing a piece.

“So who was it then?” she asks.

Carolyn watches Eve’s head spin.

“Drink.”

“Carolyn.” Eve tries to protest but Carolyn stares at her with a blank expression, clearly waiting for her to comply.

Eve drinks, almost a little reluctantly.

“Graphology is…a unique art,” Carolyn says. “Some people believe they have the ability to decipher the handwriting of others but the fact of the matter is that simply, they do not.”

Eve scoffs under her breath having lost all patience for Carolyn’s lengthy explanations.

“One of the more cunning ways to communicate covertly during the Cold War was through the use of invisible ink,” Carolyn goes on. “The subject of a message contained highly valuable information, often about defectors or undercover military operations, but being able to determine who wrote the message proved to be just as valuable, if not more. The real power came not from decoding what was written in a message”—she pauses—“but by who.”

Eve shifts in her seat, interest growing from these words, trying to use them to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

“So…” The gears turn in her mind. “You know how to analyze people’s handwriting?”

“Some people, yes.”

Eve tries to connect the dots, running a hand through her curls as she ponders, eyes jumping around the room as she calculates. She looks back at Carolyn with intrigue her dark eyes. Carolyn raises her glass in response then sips her whiskey. Eve falls back against the couch and takes a hefty drink.

“The note was not written by Marion because unbelievably so The Twelve did not have a hand in this,” Carolyn says. “Marion was with Hélène, Villanelle was with you.” She glares frigidly at Eve making her sink into the couch.

So she knows about that.

“So who then?” Eve asks.

Carolyn sighs. “This is where the whiskey does its job.”

She drinks, Eve follows suit.

“Helen.”

“What? Why?” Eve asks, mind racing. “How?” She scoffs. “She doesn’t seem cut out for that kind of work.”

“Not directly, no.”

Eve sits up needing to know the answer.

“Who?” she presses.

Carolyn stares at her. Then the glass in her hand.

Eve relents and drinks.

“MI6 also has access to individuals who can carry out these types of jobs,” Carolyn says giving Eve a stern look.

Eve’s shoulders drop. “Oh.”

“Jin Sun, or as you so aptly named her, The Ghost.”

Eve falls against the couch. “God.”

The frogs croak around them.

Eve sits up again. “But why would Helen order a hit on your daughter?” She shakes her head. “That just seems…kind of…well”—she chuckles—“insane.”

“From an outside perspective it would appear that way but Helen and I have a long intricate history dating back to the 80s when we first started with MI5.” Carolyn sighs, looking down into her glass. “This was long in the making act of retribution.”

“Wait seriously? For what?”

Carolyn takes a long drink before explaining.

“After the fall of the Berlin Wall and the later collapse of the Soviet Union, there was an effort to uncover sleeper agents in governmental positions that involved a great number of intelligence agents from various countries. I exposed a member of the KGB high up in MI6 after Helen had spent months staunchly defending him. I got the Russia desk, she got the treasury desk. They’re hardly comparable.”

“What?” Eve asks with a laugh trying to follow along.

“For years she’s had the power to halt progress on operations by diverting funds or reallocating resources, but for years I’ve carried on anyways. Through more unconventional methods.”

Eve scoffs a laugh. But she still can’t put it all together. “Okay, but, why would Helen use The Ghost? Why wouldn’t she just use one of The Twelve’s assassins?”

Carolyn waits for her to get there. Eve bites her lip trying to figure out what’s still missing.

“Why would she go behind The Twelve’s back?” she asks.

“Because this was a personal matter, not business.”

Eve scoffs. “Well, why the French?”

“An attempt to pin the job on Marion, cover her tracks at MI6.”

“So…” Eve glances around trying to make the connection. “The rest of The Twelve didn’t know about this?”

“I suspect that was the case.”

“But what about-, uh, wh-,“ Eve stammers. 

“An organization that large is often rife with internal power struggles.”

Eve shakes her head, brow furrowed. Things just aren’t adding up.

“You’re sure it wasn’t Hélène?” she asks.

“This is where we each will need another drink.”

Carolyn tosses back the rest of her whiskey and refills her glass, sliding the decanter over to Eve who pours a liberal splash for herself.

Carolyn sighs heavily and gazes off someplace far away. “Most encounters I had with agents of other intelligence agencies, were…” She searches for a way to describe it. “Fleeting, connections. But a few”—she taps a finger on her glass—“were not that.”

Eve’s jaw nearly hits the floor. She breathes out a laugh.

“Hélène?”

Carolyn’s face softens. For the first time, perhaps ever, Eve detects a hint of warm emotion behind Carolyn’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Eve shakes her head trying to form a sentence from the thoughts racing around her mind but she comes up empty. Carolyn takes a long drink, nearly finishing all the whiskey she just poured in her glass.

“Hélène and I kept in contact surreptitiously for many years. It was more than a single night affair in Lyon.”

Eve stares in disbelief.

“It became increasingly difficult to see each other as the years went on. Life…gets in the way. And then you make so many trades and compromises that you lose sight of what you were ever trying to accomplish in the first place. C'est la vie, c'est la guerre.” She shrugs. “It’s all the same really.”

Eve studies Carolyn, trying to make it all make sense.

Carolyn takes another sip, drifting to some place in her mind.

“It’s incredibly dangerous to make plans for the world with someone you love,” she says.

“Love?”

“That’s one emotion that simply cannot be controlled.”

“So you were what? Going to run the world together?” Eve asks.

“That’s certainly a romantic thought,” Carolyn replies, eyes distant.

“But I mean, I don’t understand.” Eve shakes her head. “She put hits on almost everyone you work with.”

“Tit-for-tat.” Carolyn shrugs. “All of her colleagues are about to be executed, she saw to it that all of mine met the same fate.”

Eve lets out a chuckle. “So Hélène knows.”

“She thinks she knows.” Carolyn looks back at Eve. “The art of deception is to lead the other person to believe that you’ve already played your best hand.”

Eve scoffs.

And then she finally gets it.

“But.” 

All of it.

“If she’s...”

Her shoulders drop. She sets down her drink and looks at Carolyn with concern.

“Carolyn.”

“When the walls have closed in there are only two things that can be done, Eve. Self-destruct. Or execute a well-organized attack from the outside on all fronts. And the former won’t benefit anyone, so-“

“Carolyn-”

“We’ll proceed.”

Eve slumps against the couch. She can’t help the thoughts of Villanelle that come to her mind.

Carolyn finishes her drink.

“The key to manipulation”—she stands—“is to let them think they have autonomy and are coming up with the ideas themselves. Remember that if you want to survive a lasting relationship with Villanelle.”

She strides for her bedroom leaving Eve speechless on the couch.

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow night,” she says over her shoulder.

“ _You’re_ my leading operative?”

Carolyn turns. “Yes.” A small smile forms on her lips. “I thought it might be…nice, for us to go out on this together.”

\--------

 **REYKJAVÍK**  
[Remember – Unloved]

Villanelle treks through ankle-deep snow towards a fire escape on the back of a dilapidated building. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek bun and she’s wearing a long white puffy jacket and winter boots. She climbs up the icy stairs gripping the railing as she makes her way up three flights walking through the open doorway to the third floor. It’s hard to see without the light from the crescent moon but she can make out a faint orange glow coming from across the room. She treads towards it slowly, navigating around snowdrifts and concrete pillars.

Four people huddle around a heat lamp mounted on a propane tank. Three stand closer together opposite of a woman with a bob haircut wearing a thick black parka.

Villanelle strides up, eyeing them all cautiously. She stands next to a woman with green eyes and long brown hair tucked in her hood. Next to this woman is another woman with dark hair and amber eyes. Next to her is a man with dark features and a trimmed beard.

The woman next to Villanelle eyes her.

Mariella, the woman in the parka, regards them soberly.

“Thank you for joining us,” she says in Italian. “This will be quick.”

\--------

 **OULU**  
Adalene stands in front of her group: Marion, a woman with high curved eyebrows and deep brown eyes, a man with dark hair and a stubbly beard, and a shorter woman with black hair tightly braided with gold cuffs interspersed throughout. They all have their hands jammed in their pockets, breath showing in the frosty air. A single construction lamp set on a tripod illuminates the back of the rusted rail freight car.

Adalene speaks in French.

“You are here because you have each been hand-selected for an assignment that is essential to the success of this operation. It is crucial that you complete your job fully and efficiently, leaving no trace of your presence behind. That will be indispensable for your survival. If you get made by authorities or security, you will be left to your own devices. We will not facilitate rescue or evacuation missions.”

\--------

 **COPENHAGEN**  
Eve stands between a slender woman with wavy light brown hair and a shorter woman with straight jet-black hair. Next to this woman is a tall man in a beanie with strong wide shoulders and chilling blue eyes.

The moonlight shines in through the wide opening of the abandoned flight hangar.

Carolyn addresses them in English.

“Your identity will remain anonymous to your colleagues here as well as your counterparts across the globe. While some of you may have knowledge of agents involved in the operation elsewhere, it is of vital importance that the information you receive tonight is not shared with anyone. The documents I’m about to give you contain highly classified materials gathered by a group of individuals who will also remain anonymous.”

 **REYKJAVÍK**  
Mariella opens the backpack by her feet and pulls out four thick sealed manila envelopes labeled FOXTROT, INDIA, LIMA, and NOVEMBER. She distributes the envelopes to each member of her team.

“Do not open these until you are instructed,” she says as she hands NOVEMBER to Villanelle.

Villanelle gazes at the heavy file curiously, dying to find out what’s inside.

“Inside you will find the details of your assignment including your target and their last known location.”

 **OULU**  
Marion plays with the corner of the seal on her envelope, HOTEL, tempted by it.

Adalene continues in French. “It is critical that you all complete your assignments within the specified timeframe. You will have ten minutes on either side of the window to accommodate for any unforeseen changes to circumstance. There will be no second chances or opportunities to correct errors. If you miss your mark, it is possible that the entire operation will fail by your hand.”

[When a Woman Is Around – Unloved]

 **COPENHAGEN**  
Carolyn looks at each of her operatives one final time. She and Eve exchange an earnest glance.

“Numerous people from all around the world have dedicated, risked, and even lost their lives for this operation. If you’re successful you will bring honor not only to your agencies but to your countries as well. The future of democracy rests in your hands.”

Eve eyes the heavy folder in her hands, her heart beating a little harder.

“You may tear the seal on the back of your files and remove the single sheet containing your target profiles. All other contents must remain inside in their sealed folder.”

Eve rips her folder, KILO, and tears along the seal with her finger. Her teammates all do the same. She slips out a sheet of paper.

 **Operative:** Eve Polastri  
Organization(s): MI5, MI6

 **Target:** Helen Jacobson  
DOB: 1954-03-15  
Age: 66  
Height: 160.2 cm  
Weight: 52.9 kg  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Blue  
Nationality: British  
Languages spoken: English, French, Russian, German, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian  
Territory of operation: Northern Europe, Western Europe  
Last known location: London, England  
Time zone: Greenwich Mean Time (GMT)  
Affiliated organizations: Secret Intelligence Service (SIS, MI6)  
Security detail: None  
Combat training: None  
Firearm training: Basic

The slender woman next to Eve removes her target profile.

 **Operative:** Baila Kraushaar  
Organization(s): Mossad

 **Target:** Landen Rees  
DOB: 1978-08-30  
Age: 41  
Height: 177.9 cm  
Weight: 85.1 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Green  
Nationality: Canadian  
Languages spoken: English, French, Italian, Russian, Ukrainian  
Territory of operation: Canada, United States of America, Mexico, Australia  
Last known location: Toronto, Canada  
Time zone: Eastern Standard Time (EST)  
Affiliated organizations: Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS), Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)  
Security detail: None  
Combat training: Basic  
Firearm training: Advanced

The woman with jet black hair reads her target profile.

 **Operative:** Okuda Yawara  
Organization(s): Public Security Intelligence Agency (PSIA)

 **Target:** Na Seung-Yun  
DOB: 1976-05-29  
Age: 43  
Height: 157.1 cm  
Weight: 56.5 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: South Korean  
Languages spoken: Korean, Japanese, Hindi, English  
Territory of operation: Eastern Asia, Southern Asia, Southeastern Asia  
Last known location: Ōsaka, Tokyo  
Time zone: Japan Standard Time (JST)  
Affiliated organizations: National Intelligence Service (NIS)  
Security detail: Medium  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Intermediate

The man in the beanie scans his document.

 **Operative:** Korzhev Reshetnikov  
Organization(s): Independent

 **Target:** Cássio Leitão Braga  
DOB: 1968-01-19  
Age: 52  
Height: 175.9 cm  
Weight: 83.7 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Brazilian  
Languages spoken: Portuguese, Spanish, English, French  
Territory of operation: South America, Central America  
Last known location: Manaus, Brazil  
Time zone: Amazon Time (AMT)  
Affiliated organizations: First Capital Command (PCC)  
Security detail: High  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

 **REYKJAVÍK**  
Mariella addresses her team as they read their documents.

“If you have any questions about your target ask them now. There will be no other time for it.”

Villanelle’s eyes stay glued to her target profile.

 **Operative:** Oksana Astankova Alias: Villanelle  
Organization(s): MI6

 **Target:** Hélène Périer  
DOB: 1977-10-21  
Age: 42  
Height: 162.5 cm  
Weight: 57.4 kg  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Hazel  
Nationality: French  
Languages spoken: French, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Catalan, Romanian, English, German, Russian  
Territory of operation: Eastern Europe, Western Europe, Southern Europe  
Last known location: Paris, France  
Time zone: Central European Time (CET)  
Affiliated organizations: N/A  
Security detail: None  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

The woman with green eyes and long hair analyzes the document with narrowed eyes.

 **Operative:** Jana Essen  
Organization(s): Federal Intelligence Service (BND)

 **Target:** Saverio Matteucci  
DOB: 1967-06-01  
Age: 52  
Height: 178.7 cm  
Weight: 83.5 kg  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Italian  
Languages spoken: Italian, Spanish, French, English, Greek, Arabic  
Territory of operation: Southern Europe, Northern Africa  
Last known location: Algiers, Algeria  
Time zone: Central European Time (CET)  
Affiliated organizations: External Intelligence and Security Agency (AISE), Center Interforce Intelligence (CII)  
Security detail: Low  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

The woman with amber eyes glances up at Mariella then back down.

 **Operative:** Yasaman Bozkurt  
Organization(s): Independent

 **Target:** Ilker Tarhan  
DOB: 1966-04-09  
Age: 53  
Height: 175.9 cm  
Weight: 81.2 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Turkish  
Languages spoken: Turkish, Arabic, English, Serbian, Bulgarian  
Territory of operation: Western Asia, Northern Africa, Central Africa  
Last known location: Kisumu, Kenya  
Time zone: Eastern Africa Time (EAT)  
Affiliated organizations: Turkish Armed Forces (TAF)  
Security detail: High  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

The man with the trimmed beard takes a final glance at the paper before slipping it back in the folder.

 **Operative:** Arnau Melero  
Organization(s): National Intelligence Centre (CNI)

 **Target:** Muyiwa Nwogu  
DOB: 1981-12-09  
Age: 38  
Height: 174.2 cm  
Weight: 72.9 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Nigerian  
Languages spoken: Arabic, Hausa, Swahili, English, French, Italian  
Territory of operation: Western Africa, Central Africa, Southern Africa  
Last known location: Gaborone, Botswana  
Time zone: Central Africa Time (CAT)  
Affiliated organizations: Nigerian Armed Forces, Niger Armed Forces (FAN), Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA)  
Security detail: Medium  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

 **OULU**  
Adalene clasps her hands together calmly.

“If you are satisfied with the contents of your documents, then I will bring this meeting to a close.”

Marion creases her brow as she studies her target profile.

 **Operative:** Margaux Robillard Alias: Marion  
Organization(s): MI6, Directorate-General for External Security (DGSE)

 **Target:** Rodavan Shevchenko  
DOB: 1974-02-07  
Age: 46  
Height: 184.2 cm  
Weight: 86.2 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Gray  
Nationality: Ukrainian  
Languages spoken: Russia, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Bulgarian, Polish, Czech, English, French, Romanian  
Territory of operation: Eastern Europe, Russia  
Last known location: Niš, Serbia  
Time zone: Central European Time (CET)  
Affiliated organizations: Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces (GU)  
Security detail: Low  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

Marion tries to steal a glance at the paper held by the woman with high curved brows. The woman shoots Marion a look then continues to read her document.

 **Operative:** Jin Sun Alias: The Ghost  
Organization(s): MI6

 **Target:** Liao Zexian  
DOB: 1974-07-12  
Age: 45  
Height: 157.9 cm  
Weight: 54.8 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Chinese  
Languages spoken: Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, English  
Territory of operation: Eastern Asia, Southern Asia, Southeastern Asia  
Last known location: Hanoi, Vietnam  
Time zone: Indochina Time (ICT)  
Affiliated organizations: Ministry of State Security (MSS)  
Security detail: High  
Combat training: Intermediate  
Firearm training: Intermediate

The man with dark hair and a stubbly beard sighs as she finishes scanning his document.

 **Operative:** Dariush Afshar  
Organization(s): Independent

 **Target:** Amin Salehi  
DOB: 1971-11-08  
Age: 48  
Height: 175.2 cm  
Weight: 76.2 kg  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Iranian  
Languages spoken: Arabic, Persian, Kurdish, Azerbaijani, English  
Territory of operation: Central Asia, Western Asia, Eastern Africa  
Last known location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates  
Time zone: Gulf Standard Time (GST)  
Affiliated organizations: Ministry of Intelligence of the Islamic Republic of Iran (VAJA), Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI)  
Security detail: High  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

The woman with black braids next to him flicks the corner of the paper as she reads.

 **Operative:** Thaís Costa Vila  
Organization(s): Brazilian Intelligence Agency (ABIN)

 **Target:** Valeria Sandino  
DOB: 1981-08-22  
Age: 38  
Height: 157.6 cm  
Weight: 63.1 kg  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
Nationality: Nicaraguan  
Languages spoken: Spanish, Portuguese, English  
Territory of operation: Central America, Mexico, Caribbean, northern region of South America  
Last known location: Barranquilla, Colombia  
Time zone: Colombia Time (COT)  
Affiliated organizations: N/A  
Security detail: Low  
Combat training: Advanced  
Firearm training: Advanced

Adalene glances at each of her operatives, they all give a solemn nod back. She and Marion’s eyes linger for a second.

“Okay. In that case, I thank you for your collaboration and contribution to this operation. The other leading operatives thank you, and I know your agencies do as well.”

 **REYKJAVÍK**  
Mariella sighs. “Plan and prepare accordingly. This will undoubtedly be the most difficult assignment you have had up to date. It will require complete concentration, undivided attention to detail, calculated decision-making, and a little finesse. I am confident in all of your abilities and have faith in each of you.”

Villanelle glances at the other operatives, unconvinced.

“If there are no further comments or questions…” Mariella looks each operative in the eye. “Then we are done here.”

 **COPENHAGEN**  
“Use the intel to learn your target, develop a sound plan, account for unexpected variables, and devise more than one exit route. There’s no time for careless mistakes in this operation. Plan twice, execute once. Make use of all your skills and training, do what is necessary to survive, and if you must, rely on intuition.”

Carolyn scans the grave expressions of her operatives. She gives Eve a final glance,

“Good luck.”

 **OULU**  
“Bonne chance.”

 **REYKJAVÍK**  
“In bocca al lupo.”

\--------

 **LONDON**  
Eve treads up the stairs to the flat, a grin on her face. She unzips her jacket and starts to slip it off as she gets to the top.

“God, I’m exhausted but I was thinking we could-“

It’s pitch black. All the lights are off.

[If - Unloved]

Eve squints trying to see in the dark. She shrugs her jacket back on.

“Villanelle?”

She looks to the side waiting, listening.

“Villanelle?” she tries a bit louder.

She sets her bag carefully by the stairs and slinks through the dark towards the kitchen, a sliver of light shining through the blinds over the window.

“If you think this is funny it’s not,” she calls out. “I’m already annoyed.”

As she wades her way through the darkness, her eyes catch an object on the counter. She squints harder trying to discern what it could be from the fuzzy outline. She rams into a dining chair.

“Jesus, Christ.”

She pushes it out of the way, unfocusing her eyes and stepping slowly, letting her muscle memory guide her to the kitchen. She reaches the counter, keeping her hand on the surface as she steps around to the front of the cabinets.

Eve picks up the object and feels it, twirling it around in her hand.

It’s a knife.

The knife.

But there’s something else.

A note.

She squints but is unable to read it in the dark, having to shuffle over to hold it in the splinter of light coming through from the outside.

In Villanelle’s neat handwriting she reads, “Be Free x”

[Xpectations – Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VILLANELLE?!
> 
> This is now a love story within a love story, oops how did that happen??
> 
> Also THE TWELVE (!) – I’m pretty sure speaking as many languages as they all do is entirely unrealistic but oh well
> 
> Google, I owe you everything
> 
> Feedback always welcomed!  
> (I tried to put a lot of thought into The Twelve but if I was biased or discriminatory with profiles and/or descriptions please someone tell me)
> 
> I appreciate your patience as I write through the tears to finish the final chapter
> 
> (A little something to hold you over, the title of the finale: There's No Time Left For Games)


	8. There's No Time Left For Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock starts on Operation Odesa; Eve is met with difficulty during her assignment; Villanelle fights for her life against Hélène; Marion gives it her all to finish the job; Carolyn meets with Konstantin to propose a final offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the line, time to break out the booze!
> 
> This chapter is so long and there are so many songs that I honestly recommend an intermission at some point.
> 
> It’s been an absolute pleasure writing this fic. I’ll see you all on the other side!
> 
> Songs you will need (in order):  
> Xpectations - Unloved  
> Unloved 7 – Unloved  
> La La La – Unloved  
> Crash Boom Bang - Unloved  
> Tell Mama – Unloved  
> Somber – Unloved  
> Baluba Shake – Brunetta  
> Unloved Heart – Unloved  
> Visage – BB Brunes  
> Why Me – unloved  
> We Are Unloved – Unloved  
> Sigh – Unloved  
> Mirza – Nino Ferrer  
> Bill – Unloved  
> Cry Baby Cry – Unloved  
> J’Arrive A Toi – Carla Bruni  
> Mosaic – Unloved  
> Far from Here - Unloved  
> 3 A.M. on Russell Avenue – Unloved  
> ????? – Cigarettes After Sex (don’t cheat!)  
> Xpectations - Unloved  
> [Spotify Playlist: There's No Time Left For Games](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2p4f1fENhdqbJqfYCsKZm3)

**LONDON**  
[Xpectations - Unloved]  
Eve, dressed in a black velvet turtle neck and black slacks, stands at the window with a glass of red wine in hand.

She gazes out at the people passing by on the street below, the setting sun casting vibrant rays of golden light.

Two young men laugh as they ramble down the sidewalk, cigarettes hanging out their mouths. The lankier one playfully shoves his friend as they grin and laugh harder.

A bicyclist zooms down the street. Two older women are about to cross in front of him. He shouts; one woman looks over her shoulder and pulls the other out of the way. They shake their heads then hustle across the street.

Eve narrows her eyes as she observes.

A tall man dressed in slacks and a sport coat stands under a street lamp looking down at his phone. Another man with his hood on jogs up and pulls the phone out of the man’s hands then kisses him. He slips his hood off. They both smile then start down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

Eve sips her wine as her dark eyes fix on the young woman leaning against the car parked on the curb, talking animatedly into her phone.

The woman pushes off the car and gestures about, seemingly very agitated with how her conversation is going. She throws up a hand as a young girl prances by, startling her. She runs back to her mother who takes her hand and briskly pulls her along.

Eve pulls herself away.

She strides to the kitchen and dumps the wine down the drain then washes the glass and dries it, returning it to the cupboard. No dirty dishes sit in the sink or on the counter, everything has been cleaned and put away.

In fact, the entire flat has been cleaned, as if Eve and Villanelle had never been living there.

Eve grabs her phone from the dining table and checks the time.

18:24 BST

No new calls or texts.

She grabs her heavy black parka from the back of the dining chair and shrugs it on, slipping her phone in a pocket, then jams her feet into the Balmain combat boots by the stairs and ties up the laces.

She takes in the flat one last time as she feels the object in her pocket, letting her fingers play with it.

She looks around, eyes jumping from the circular bed with its plush comforter, to the kitchen with the pots and pans hanging above, to the dining table with no kimonos thrown over chairs, and to the piano, that Villanelle surprisingly played more than once.

Eve takes a deep breath.

She sets her wedding ring on the top of the piano.

Then the knife.

Memories of Villanelle dance around her mind. Her hazel eyes in the morning, her sweet smell after a shower, her lopsided grin.

Eve smiles as her eyes detach. She reviews her plan in her head. Every step, every word, every detail down to the last second.

She sighs and snatches the knife back up.

Eve strides down the sidewalk looking like a dark force to be reckoned with. The woman she watched from the window yells into her phone.

“I’ve told you a thousand times! I’m not comfortable with you at her house!”

Eve coolly slips the knife out of her pocket, releasing the blade and puncturing the tire in a swift thrust. Air rushes out. The tire flattens as she walks away.

Eve smirks to herself.

**KILLING EVE**  
[Unloved 7 – Unloved]

**SOUTHWARK**  
Elena strides down a narrow corridor, a backpack on her back. She pushes through the door into a small room.

Jess sits in an office chair staring up at a 5x5 panel of twenty television monitors, all turned off.

She turns and smiles at Elena.

“You ready?”

“To take down a global crime syndicate? Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Jess shrugs, “Eh, all we have to do is watch.”

Elena slips off her backpack. Jess bites a nail.

“Speaking of which. I need your help getting these all turned on.”

Elena sits next to her and pulls out her laptop.

“This is more your area of expertise.”

“What? Logging on to a computer?” Elena grins.

Jess rolls her eyes, “You’re the only one with access. It’s all encrypted.”

Elena starts up her computer and plugs the cable extending from the large console into her laptop.

A text box appears on each monitor on the wall prompting for a login and password.

She clicks away. Each letter she types on her keyboard inputs as an X on the screens.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Um, hello?”

Jess spins in her chair, “What, who are you?”

Bear stands in the doorway, his big eyes taking in all the monitors.

“Uh.”

Jess looks to Elena with a concerned scowl.

“He’s with me,” she waves without looking up.

“Where’d he come from? Is he MI6?”

Bear nervously looks from Jess to Elena, then back at the monitors. Jess glares at him with narrowed eyes.

Elena hits enter with force.

“He knew Kenny.”

Jess’s shoulders drop, “Oh.”

Her expression softens with sympathy.

“Sorry it’s just. This is a pretty big operation. Everyone’s on high alert.”

Bear smiles, uncomfortable already.

“I worked at the Bitter Pill, helped Carolyn and Eve with all the phone and serial number stuff.”

“Oh. Right.” Jess eyes him up and down, still unsure. “That was you?”

“Yeah. Well Kenny’s programs, but, I operated them.”

“Hm. He has clearance?”

Elena waves a hand dismissively and continues to type rapidly with a creased brow, concentrated on her screen.

“Pull up a chair,” she says between clicks.

Bear ambles in.

Jess shoots him a cross look.

“Uh. Close the door.”

He cringes, “Right.”

He clicks the door shut then slips off his backpack and sits on the other side of Elena.

The monitors boot up slowly as she types in codes. CCTV footage from multiple cameras streams on the monitors. Some in color, some in black and white.

“God you’d think I’d be fluent in Italian after this,” Elena mutters to herself.

Bear pulls a bag of Tangfastics out of his backpack and tears it open.

Jess eyes him.

“Do you want some?”

“Um. Sure.”

Elena holds out her hand still typing with the other. Bear hands her the bag with a scrunched brow. She pops a few in her mouth then passes it to Jess.

Jess smiles over at him.

“Thanks. Um. What’s your name?”

“Bear,” he says with a full mouth.

Jess grabs a handful, “Well, welcome to MI6.”

“For the day,” Elena adds.

She clicks diligently entering the last code. The footage flashes once on each monitor, LIVE displayed in the top right corner.

“There we are.”

A few screens cut in and out with static as the connection gets established.

Bear gazes up in awe, “Wow. That’s a lot of CCTV.”

“Eighteen cameras to be exact.”

Jess hands the bag of Tangfastics to Elena who takes more then passes it to Bear. He tosses a few more in his mouth.

“What’s that?” he points to a screen on the left, larger than the rest.

Jess grins, “That’s the fun part.”

Elena chews, “Mm these are sweet, then sour, then sweet.”

“Each operative will send a status update after they’ve completed their assignment.”

Bear eats a few more.

“What’s the assignment?”

Elena and Jess exchange a conspiring glance.

\--------

**THE SAVOY LONDON**  
[La La La – Unloved]  
Hélène wanders, gazing out the window at the black night. She wears a white blouse with the sleeves rolled and navy-blue trousers, black stilettos peeking out. She clasps her hands together, pressing her fingers to her lips as she contemplates.

Considers her choices.

Her actions.

The decision to come to this hotel tonight.

The door clicks behind her. A smile spreads across her face, warmth in her eyes.

She turns, “I was beginning to-“

The warmth vanishes, icy cold taking its place. Villanelle smiles smugly at her, hair in a sleek low bun. She’s wearing a black sequined suit, the blazer with a deep-V, and black boots all by Saint Laurent. The vertical gold bar necklace rests on her chest.

“Not who you were expecting to see?”

Hélène sets her jaw and forces a smile.

“It is always a pleasure, seeing you.”

Villanelle slinks into the room slowly, eyes finding every sharp edge and blunt object, calculating her distance from them.

“I know,” she shrugs. “I’m easy on the eyes.”

Hélène grins, noticing the vase of flowers in the edge of her vision. Villanelle’s farther from that but closer to the lamp.

“You are…truly sensational, Villanelle.”

Villanelle shrugs haughtily.

Hélène takes a step towards her, “You have done so much for the organization. More than you could ever know.”

Villanelle slinks closer, careful to keep the coffee table between them.

“I’ve killed so many people you mean?”

Hélène chuckles, “You have done so much more than that.”

“Do you know, how many?”

Hélène steps with her. They circle each other slowly, untamed eyes fixed on one another.

Villanelle nods, “Forty-three.”

Hélène’s gaze flickers in intensity.

“That number only includes your jobs for us. No personal…or family, related matters.”

Villanelle’s neck twitches.

Hélène’s grins maliciously, “So if you were to be honest, that number is well above forty-three. Closer to sixty.”

Villanelle’s eyes darken.

“You are what you are, Villanelle. Trained and skilled, in only one job. To kill.”

They stalk closer, slowly, step by step.

Hélène smiles wickedly, “Ubiytsa.” An assassin.

Villanelle’s nostrils flare. Her upper lip tics.

“That’s not who I am anymore.”

She locates the book with its sharp corner in her periphery.

“No? Then tell me. Who are you? Villanelle.”

“Oksana Anatol’yevna Astankova,” her Russian comes through.

“Oksana?” Hélène laughs. “You don’t want to be her. The orphan from Perm with no home or family left for her, no one who remembers her name. No one who cares if she’s alive or dead.”

“I have family.”

Hélène raises her brows, “The two who survived your fit of rage?”

Villanelle clamps her jaw. All her muscles tense.

“What are their names? Your brothers.”

Villanelle’s expression hardens with enmity. She forces a smile, emptiness in her eyes.

“Pyotr, and Bor’ka.”

“Ah. Pyotr and Bor’ka. And you want to be Oksana, their sister?”

The lamp is on Villanelle’s left, the book on her right.

“You can’t be this,” Hélène flicks her eyes up and down on Villanelle’s figure, “and her, at the same time.”

“You’re wrong,” Villanelle growls.

“You are a keeper, Villanelle. The Twelve is your only home.”

Villanelle shakes her head, eyes full of rage, “No.”

They slink closer and closer, almost near enough to pounce.

“I have always been Oksana. But Eve was the only one who ever saw that.”

Hélène chuckles, “Eve Polastri. The incessant intelligence agent MI6 refuses to employ. You would lose all of this for her?”

“I am not losing anything. Eve is already everything to me.”

“She hurt you twice already, you think she won’t do it again? People like you and Eve are not meant to be together.”

“People like me and Eve will do whatever we want.”

[Crash Boom Bang - Unloved]

There’s less than two steps between them now. One quick lunge could launch an attack.

Hélène reaches up and slowly twists her hair into a bun, “She may be like you, but she is not trained like you.”

Villanelle scowls, dark eyes locked on Hélène, waiting for the moment to strike.

Hélène slips the bracelet off her wrist and ties her hair back with it, “While you are here, with me, the backup I sent is already there, killing Eve.”

Villanelle heaves the lamp at Hélène. She ducks out of the way and kicks the coffee table into Villanelle’s knee then flies around the table and decks her in the jaw. Villanelle cracks her in the nose. Hélène snatches the other lamp as Villanelle lunges at her. She grabs her around the waist and slams her down on the coffee table.

She belts her across the face as Hélène knees her in the crotch, nailing her in the bone then launching off the table and taking her to the ground.

Hélène scurries to her feet, Villanelle right beside her. She clocks Hélène in the jaw. Hélène recoils with a hit to the mouth.

They square up, blood already dripping down both their faces.

Villanelle crushes Hélène’s cheekbone with her fist. Hélène drives her knee into Villanelle’s ribs knocking her backwards. She strides at her, menace in her eyes. Villanelle growls and pounces, grabbing Hélène by the shoulders and slamming her up against the windows.

She takes a step back assessing her, the vast black night outside.

She front kicks Hélène in the sternum completely knocking the air out of her. She wheezes, her hands on her knees, looking up as Villanelle swings. She falls out of the way; Villanelle's knuckles smack into the glass. She screams out.

Hélène crawls away trying to catch her breath. Villanelle tackles her down. They wrangle each other on the floor, landing heavy hits. Villanelle fractures Hélène’s cheekbone with her intact knuckles. Hélène jabs her in the throat and spins out from underneath her. She belts Villanelle repeatedly, splitting her eyebrow as Villanelle claws at her face, straining all her muscles to fend her off.

She knees Hélène in the ribs with a crack and spins to her feet but Hélène kicks the inside of her leg making her fall with a yelp.

They scurry away from each other.

Hélène pushes herself up with some effort, blood streaking down her face. Sharp pain radiates from her ribs with every breath. Villanelle climbs to her feet and squares up, staggering a bit, knuckles and jaw throbbing.

Their hair is wild. Villanelle’s blazer is twisted awkwardly and Hélène’s blouse is doused with red splotches.

Villanelle puts her weight behind a punch. Hélène blocks and retaliates with a strike to the temple. Villanelle stumbles back blinking. Hélène seizes the vase and smashes it into Villanelle’s head. She falls to the ground, fumbling around on the floor in a daze. She can feel the blood start to trickle down her face.

Hélène cringes as she bends to retrieve a shard of glass. Villanelle catches her out of the corner of her eye and forces herself up in a flash. She catches Hélène’s wrist and wrenches her arm back with a snap then locks her in a chokehold.

Hélène gasps for air.

Villanelle squeezes tighter, “I am done killing for The Twelve!”

Hélène chokes. She reaches back wildly getting a handful of hair and pulls hard. Villanelle yells and loosens. Hélène flings them both over the back of the couch, Villanelle crashing on the coffee table, Hélène getting wedged between it and the couch.

Villanelle kicks the table into Hélène’s ribs, yelling in anger with each kick. She crumples as her ribs crack.

Villanelle searches for another blunt object. Pain radiates from her eyebrow and her knuckles throb with the quick pace of her heart. She focuses her eyes on the champagne bottle across the room, lunging for it and turning as Hélène heaves an end table at her. She tumbles to the ground. Hélène grabs hold of the table and swings it down against Villanelle’s back; she cries out.

Hélène catches her breath, her face damp with sweat and blood, both sides of ribs sending jolts of pain through her. Villanelle gets to her feet, head pounding. She puts her hands up squinting through blurred vision, her body trembling with rage. She spits the metallic taste from her mouth.

Hélène stumbles towards her off-balance. She grins savagely, her white teeth contrasting starkly with the blood on her lips.

“You are not done with The Twelve, Villanelle. We are done with you.”

Villanelle growls and decks her in the jaw sending her to the ground. She snatches the table and splinters it against Hélène’s ribs; she cries out in agony. Villanelle wheezes in air, pain shooting through her body as she locates the bottle of champagne. Hélène writhes on the ground, groaning. She slips her stilettos off as she struggles to her feet.

Villanelle lugs the bottle over as Hélène sways, trying to stand up straight. She raises the bottle for a swing as Hélène whips her across the face with a stiletto. The bottle flies from her hand.

They both scramble for it.

Villanelle seizes it first and slugs it into Hélène’s ribs; it explodes. Champagne and glass fly everywhere.

Hélène falls to the ground, pain ripping through her body. Villanelle clutches her hair and yanks her to her feet.

Hélène snatches a piece of glass and swipes it across Villanelle’s exposed chest; she screams out. Hélène pulls her arm back for another strike.

\--------

**LAMBETH**  
Eve sits at a long table in a small office, her jacket hangs on the back of her chair. Her curls are loose and pushed back behind shoulders.

Everything in the room is grey. The carpets, the walls, the table, the chairs.

Eve’s eyes are clear and focused. Dark. Her hands are clasped on the table calmly, the blue sapphire ring on her finger. She doesn’t fidget.

Helen strides through the door shuffling the papers in her hand.

“So to start I was,“ she looks up, “Eve. I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”

Eve stares back with an empty expression, giving nothing away.

Helen tidies up the papers in her hands and clears her throat, “Well, this is an interesting turn of events.”

Eve watches her take a seat at the opposite end of the table, tossing the papers down.

“Are you Villanelle’s proxy?” Helen asks with a snide undertone.

“Villanelle isn’t coming.”

Helen narrows her eyes, “Are you here on your own accord or were you sent?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

[Tell Mama – Unloved]

“So what’s Carolyn got you up to these days? Letting you and the assassin go unchecked to try to salvage a failing operation? She must spend the majority of her time cleaning up your mess.”

Eve doesn’t react.

“What do you know, about the operation?”

Helen scoffs, “Oh Carolyn’s prized Operation Odesa. The be-all end-all of operations, aimed at eliminating the KGB’s presence in all of Europe with one quick pull of the trigger, except it’s almost entirely impossible to execute.”

Eve doesn’t feed off the chaotic energy, she maintains composure.

“So the focus has been mainly on ex KGB? Russian spies and counterintelligence?”

“Oh that’s what The Twelve is,” Helen snaps. “Did you miss that part in the briefing?”

“The Twelve have expanded, well beyond Europe.”

“Course they have by now. It’s been what, nearly fifty years since the height of the Cold War. Thirty since the end of the Soviet Union and the division of the KGB.”

“Russia is not the only country backing The Twelve.”

“Aye, keep up Eve! The Russians practically created espionage, the rest of the world has been trying to catch up since the 50s. Russia started the idea to plant agents within governments, other countries joined in after.”

“Oh so is that where you fit in all this?”

“Oh Christ, I’ve been running counterintelligence against the SVR for years! We’ve all been. Do you know how much money goes into efforts against Russia alone?”

“And you have the ability to redirect that money elsewhere, right?”

“Oh,” Helen rubs her forehead, “for Christ’s sake!” She shoots out of her chair. “The only reason I ever conspired with The Twelve was to get intel for MI6! Unlike Carolyn I never wanted to throw my colleagues to the dogs.”

Eve shakes her head, not believing a single word.

“There’s no time left for games.”

“Jesus Christ. Is that what she wants you to believe? That I’m a member of The Twelve giving orders to assassinate government officials while directing money and resources to an operation working against them. An operation you ran off a cliff!”

Eve stands slowly, “That operation was successful. I got Villanelle. She cooperated with MI6 on Operation Manderley.”

“You think you’ve won because you got in bed with a Russian? We’ve all done that, Eve!”

“Villanelle is working as an operative with me. On Operation Odesa.”

Helen scoffs, repulsed, “Oh, Operation Odesa. You and your assassin have brought more shame to MI6 than-“

“We are about to tear down an organization that has embarrassed MI6, pulling off untraceable assassinations for years and going almost entirely undetected because no one had the insight to put two and two together or they were already in on it with no remorse to order hits on their colleagues. MI6 would have never uncovered the expanse of The Twelve without Villanelle, and me finding her.”

“You think you’re heroes, is that what it is? Saving the world from injustice? You are the injustice! A Russian assassin and ex operative turned killer. There’s nothing that brings more glory than that!”

“We’re the ones putting ourselves in dangerous situations, carrying out jobs without fear while everyone else hides behind their desk.”

Helen fumes.

Eve presses on, her tone fierce and direct. “I know you sent Jin to kill Carolyn’s daughter. Where’s the valor in that?”

Helen slams her hands on the table. “You have no idea, Eve! About any of it! You only know what Carolyn feeds you which is just enough to get you riled up so you’ll go out and kill someone on your own without her having to give the direct order. You’re making a serious mistake if you think you’re going be able to just walk away from this one.”

“No. You’re making the mistake. Getting me all riled up.”

\--------

**KYIV**  
[Somber – Unloved]  
Marion strides down a dim corridor. Fluorescents bulbs flicker overhead, buzzing. She’s wearing black on black, the hood of her sweatshirt on, a thick file tucked under her arm. She slips through the last door at the end of the hall, shutting it softly behind her.

It’s dark. Only the soft glow of television monitors and street lamps outside the window illuminates the room. The rows of filing cabinets against the walls confine the space.

Marion’s eyes assess the three bright monitors as she walks in. The center shows Saverio sitting at a table in the patio of a restaurant, the footage coming from a security camera of the store next door.

Rodavan leans against the conference table, his eyes focused on the monitors.

They speak in French.

“You’re late.”

Marion slinks up, “This is a hard place to find.”

He looks over at her, the low light from the screens casting grim shadows on his face.

“Don’t waste my time, Marion.”

“I’m not.” She throws the file on the table. “Their operation.”

He glares at her. "You think one undercover job gives you the right to show a lack of respect? Don’t forget your place,” his deep voice scolds her.

“I would never. My place is beside you,” she smirks at him, charm in her dark eyes.

Rodavan clenches his jaw. He and Marion watch Mariella sit across from Saverio on the monitor.

“Terminating Mariella and Saverio will be a serious hit to leadership for the organization.”

“Isn’t that what we wanted? Destabilization.”

“There is a high potential for retaliation, regardless of Mariella’s actions as a defector.”

“Nothing we are not prepared to deal with.”

“An insurgency against The Twelve will not be easy. Sides will be formed, there will be bloodshed. Killing those we once considered comrades.”

Marion shrugs, “Something we are both motivated by. If there is less of them, there is more power for us.”

Mariella and Saverio clink wine glasses.

“You have done well to conceal your true motives, Marion. I commend you for that.”

She smiles, “I am a keeper of many secrets.”

Rodavan grins almost imperceptibly. He picks up the folder.

“Their first mistake was naming the operation after a Ukrainian city.”

He opens the folder to find Hélène’s profile, Villanelle as the operative.

He scoffs, “Villanelle. She will be your next job. Be merciless. Traitors deserve to pay the price in blood.”

Marion grins, eyes darkening.

Rodavan flips to the next profile. Helen with Eve as the operative.

He lets out a chuckle, “Eve Polastri. The bane of this organization and Villanelle’s downfall. They are pathetic.”

He flips through four more profiles then gets to his own, Marion as the operative.

He guffaws, “Did you suggest this?”

Marion discreetly checks her watch under her sleeve.

21:59 EEST

[Baluba Shake – Brunetta] 

She leans against the table next to Rodavan and crosses her arms as she watches the monitor impatiently. He flips through the rest of the profiles, scanning the contents, then tosses the file aside and glances back at the screens.

Saverio and Mariella converse over wine. A motorcycle enters the bottom of the frame then flies into the air in a fiery explosion. Saverio falls face-first onto the table as Mariella slips a gun back into her jacket.

Rodavan sets his jaw.

Marion smirks, “You are not the only one with a penchant for betrayal.”

**LA CONDAMINE, MONACO**  
Cássio wanders on the balcony of the upper deck of a yacht in a fur jacket, a glass of Hennessy in his hand. He takes a sip and sighs, content with being on the Inafundável.

Korzhev watches through the scope of his silenced sniper rifle, sights centered on Cássio’s body. He lies on the deck of the boat docked four slips away, hidden behind a coil of rope. He’s dressed in black from his beanie to his boots.

There are two security guards on the upper deck and four more inside the cabin.

He checks his watch.

21:02 CEST

He flutters his finger on the trigger.

Time is ticking.

Cássio yawns and stretches as he ambles along. One of the security guards hocks a loogie off the edge then disappears into the cabin.

Korzhev presses harder into the scope, his muscles tensing.

Almost time.

Cássio rests against the railing, leaning over to look at the water below.

Now.

Korzhev fires a single shot hitting Cássio square in the chest. He slumps over the railing awkwardly, his upper body dangling over the edge as the glass slips from his hand.

He falls end over end into the water with a large splash.

The security guard rushes over and looks over the edge, bubbles surfacing in the water. He shouts.

Korzhev slinks away in the darkness and begins to disassemble the rifle. 

**SANTORINI**  
Yasaman touches up her mascara in the bathroom of a lux hotel suite. Her liner and pink eyeshadow make her amber eyes pop.

“Yasaman,” a deep voice calls from the other room.

She replies in Turkish.

“Almost ready baby.”

She takes a deep breath then opens a case of breath mints.

One of the tablets does not look like the other.

She removes the clear capsule with shaky fingers, the viscous liquid inside moving around sluggishly.

Her heart races. She closes her eyes and takes steadying breaths then nods to herself and places the capsule between her teeth, careful not to apply too much pressure.

She maneuvers the capsule with her tongue so that most of it is on the inside of her teeth.

Her clock starts now.

She glides out of the bathroom, smiling, her lips slightly puckered.

Ilker turns to her with a devilish grin.

He wears a wedding ring, she does not.

His hungry eyes appraise her figure as she glides up to him. She tests the coating of the capsule with her tongue, running her tongue in circles around it a few more times to soften the exterior.

“You look magnificent.”

She embraces him, immediately going in for a kiss. They lock lips.

Yasaman releases the capsule from between her teeth and kisses him harder, his grip tightens around her body. She slips the capsule into his mouth dancing her tongue around it a second more before pulling away with a grin.

He looks into her enchanting eyes.

“What is this?”

She smirks, “An aphrodisiac.”

He laughs as the capsule dissolves in his mouth. He swallows it eagerly.

Yasaman grins, eyes growing bigger as the smile falls off Ilker’s face. He grimaces and releases his hold on her taking a step back and clutching his chest.

He stumbles around, his body convulsing as he chokes. He looks over at Yasaman with eyes full of fury. She watches with raised brows, counting off the seconds in her head.

He staggers over towards the closet, his body tensing and arching at unnatural angles. He steadies himself on the desk then drops like a lead balloon, bouncing off it to the floor in a heap.

Yasaman lets out a small laugh in disbelief.

**NEW YORK CITY**  
Baila sprints after Landen pumping her arm furiously, a gaiter covering her face from the nose down. She chases him through Central Park, a drizzle of rain coming down from the cloudy afternoon sky.

He’s a good five paces ahead. She checks her watch.

15:07 EDT

She kicks it into another gear with a grunt.

A bicyclist leisurely approaches from the other direction. She shifts her path in line with his, eyes never drifting from Landen up ahead.

The bicyclist hits his brakes once but hardly redirects his course. Baila sprints full force throwing her arm up at the last second. His body flings backwards as the bike flies out from underneath him.

Baila picks up the bike and pedals after Landen.

“What the fuck!” the cyclist yells from the ground.

She pedals as hard as she can, rapidly closing the distance. Landen checks his shoulder as she launches off the bike and tackles him onto the grass. The bike crashes next to them.

She punches him repeatedly in the face, brass knuckles over her gloved fist, then lugs his body into the nearby bushes. She pulls out a pewter Empire State Building souvenir and stabs him in the carotid artery, blood squirting out with each pulse.

Landen grips his throat, blood oozing through his fingers. His eyes drain as he goes limp against the grass.

Baila tosses the souvenir on his chest along with the brass knuckles, blood dripping down the letters L M A O on each knuckle.

She hops back on the bike and pedals off.

The cyclist stands on the sidewalk, jaw dropped.

\--------

**SOUTHWARK**  
Elena and Jess scan the monitors, their eyes darting from screen to screen as they calculate.

“Oh my God. What just happened?”

Elena looks to Jess who stares back just as confused.

“Was that supposed to happen?”

“No, she’s not even supposed to be there!”

They stare at the monitor showing Saverio slumped on the table and the motorcycle smoking on the ground. People have started to gather around.

Bear chews noisily next to them.

“Are all of these going to show someone getting murdered?”

The screen dings once.

Then again.

And again.

Elena and Jess snap their heads to the larger screen on the left. Lines of text pop up.

~~Cássio Leitão Braga~~

~~Landen Rees~~

~~Ilker Tarhan~~

A shiver runs down Elena’s spine.

“Oh my God,” she mumbles.

Jess lets out a laugh, “I can’t believe it. This might actually work.”

Another ding from the screen.

~~Saverio Matteucci~~

Elena shifts her gaze and squints at the monitor. Sirens flash and police officers start to clear out the area.

Bear throws a few more Tangfastics in his mouth.

“Is that Carolyn?”

“What?”

Elena’s eyes jump between screens until she finds the one displaying Carolyn striding down the sidewalk towards a Mercedes-Benz.

She creases her brow not believing what she sees.

“Did you know about this?” she looks to Jess.

“Um. Partially,” she cringes.

Konstantin saunters up the sidewalk towards Carolyn.

**CITY OF LONDON**  
Konstantin slides into the passenger seat.

Carolyn stares out the windshield, street lights illuminating spots in the darkness.

“We don’t have much time.”

“I know.”

“So I’m going to get right to it.”

Her eyes pierce into him.

The corner of his mouth pulls into a grin.

[Unloved Heart – Unloved]

“You may not have had a direct role in the death of my daughter but you certainly didn’t help her situation. You took advantage of her good nature to get information on me which led her into being manipulated by The Twelve.”

He grimaces at her words.

“But that pales in comparison to the fact that you killed my son.”

“Carolyn-“

“Come clean now. There’s no time left for it later.”

He swallows and shifts in his seat to look her in the eye.

He sighs, “I was scared.”

“That’s not a good enough answer, Konstantin. And my patience is very thin.”

He frowns, “He knew about the money. Knew I was the one transferring it from the Geneva accounts.”

“So you threw him off a six-story building?”

He cringes and looks out the window into the dark night.

“I just wanted to leave with my daughter. I never meant to hurt him.”

“And yet he’s dead.”

Konstantin runs a hand over his head, suffering from Carolyn’s harsh words.

“I told him to stop looking into the accounts, that it was too dangerous, but he wouldn’t let it go.”

“Hardly a good enough reason to push him over.”

“He wanted to go after The Twelve, wanted to follow the-”

“Which would lead back to you.”

He nods, eyes gloomy.

“So you killed my son in an effort to save yourself.”

He hides his eyes in his hand, clenching his jaw to fight off the agony of the truth.

“For years they have their hands around my throat, squeeze a little bit tighter, every day.”

“That’s of no concern to me or my children. You chose to live a duplicitous life. It’s a shame you were never any good at it.”

He sighs heavily and hangs his head in his hands.

A car drives by shining its headlights through the windshield.

“Kenny didn’t call to ask if you were his father because that was never an issue. And giving Geraldine the wrong idea by showing her kindness during a time of grief is beneath contempt.”

Konstantin inhales a shaky breath.

“None of it was ever supposed to happen this way,” he grimaces.

“Regret is a feeling reserved for those who have failed to foresee the outcomes of their actions.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs and shakes his head. “You were like family-”

“No. We were never family. Not in the past and certainly not now.”

He slumps back against his seat, unfocused eyes gazing out the window.

He glowers, “The only family I have left,” his voices shakes, “my daughter. And they are making her-“

“Irina.” Carolyn sighs heavily, “Will be welcome, in my home.”

Konstantin studies her, a sliver of hope in his eyes.

“You are-”

“I’ll see to it that her past doesn’t define her future.”

\--------

**KYIV**  
Rodavan scowls at Marion baring his teeth, his hands clenched into fists.

“I never thought you would betray your country.” He switches to Ukrainian, “I guess I was wrong.”

[Visage – BB Brunes]

Marion smiles smugly and responds in Ukrainian.

“If there is one thing you should know about me by now, Rodavan. It is that I work for no one but myself.”

She scoops up the folder and flings it open. Sheets of paper fly around the air between them as she slips a gun from the back of her pants. He roundhouse kicks her hand sending it sailing across the room. She growls and hits him across the face. He grabs her and heaves her against the table. She bangs across hitting the ground on the other side and scurries underneath.

He slides over the top. Marion kicks him in the knee cap. He yells and tries to grab her but she strikes him the face. He sneers with rage and snatches her leg dragging her out. She kicks his ribs but he’s unphased, clutching her by the hips and hoisting her up then throwing her against the table and pummeling her across the face. She knees him in the groin then grabs the back of his head and smashes his nose into her knee. He huffs and jabs her in the sternum knocking the wind out of her then grips her hair and hurls her into the filing cabinets against the wall. She smacks against them with a yelp.

Blood flows down from his nose and busted lip. The split in her cheekbone gushes. Their eyes both find the gun on the far side of the room.

Marion bolts. He catches her and shoves her back against the filing cabinets. She runs and jumps on his back using her body weight to pull them both down to the ground, landing on top of him and decking him in the jaw before he head butts her and hurls her onto her back. He gets to his feet, kicking her in the ribs as she tries to stand. She flings herself back across the table.

They glare at each other, eyes feral.

Rodavan’s eyes dart over to the gun. Marion propels herself and plants her hands on the table, cartwheeling across and locking her legs around his neck, flinging them both to the ground.

She scurries to her feet. He catches her ankle and pulls her back. She throws her leg back striking him in the face. He lunges at her and yanks her down by the waist.

Marion grips his shirt as he climbs over her. He rips a computer monitor off the desk and cracks her across the face; blood sprays. She fumbles on her hands and knees, the room spinning, her cheek pulsing with pain. She cringes.

He tugs her to her feet and hauls her onto the table then jumps on, towering over her. She heaves her body back and drives her heels into his chest, flinging him over the table and crashing into the computers on the other side as she flies off backwards. She struggles to her feet as he pushes himself to his hands and knees. She drives her heel down on the back of his head.

Marion sways as she holds her hands up, blinking, opening and closing her jaw to test the pain. Blood pours down the side of her face.

Rodavan climbs to his feet and lumbers towards her. She shoves him backwards over the chair. He tumbles to the ground, then strikes her in the thigh with his boot; she yells. He climbs to his feet.

They square up, both their faces bashed in. 

He slips a switchblade out from his belt.

She laughs between pants, “You came prepared.”

He swipes at her neck; she dodges and decks him in the jaw. He growls and thrusts the blade at her stomach; she lurches out of the way.

They size each other up, Marion leading with her left leg. He swings the blade and she catches his arm then jabs his nose. He yanks free and backhands her across the face. Her jaw drops in shock.

He closes the blade, filling his fist with the knife. He flutters his fingers on the metal.

“Execute your target, Marion.”

She growls flashing her teeth.

They tango, their bodies silhouettes backlit by the moon outside the window.

He throws a jab, cross; block, block. She lands a hook to his jaw. He decks her in the face. She drives her leg into his ribs.

He falters.

She lands a cross to his eye. He catches her chin with a hook.

She sways.

They square up, both unsteady on their feet. He feints a punch; she flinches. She feints one; he flinches.

Marion jumps and swivels her hips landing in a southpaw stance. She swings a hook, uppercut. He comes back with a jab. She throws a cross, hook. He hits her with an uppercut then opens the blade and slices her arm; she cries out then growls and lunches at him, catching his wrist and ripping his arm down at an awkward angle forcing the knife from his hand.

She snatches it and stabs him in the stomach; he howls and decks her sending her face-first to the floor.

He rips out the blade with a grunt and grips her by the throat wrenching her to her feet. She kicks the gash in his stomach. He crumples and drops the knife. He lurches for it but she kicks it away.

They stagger on their feet, both a bloody mess.

He yells and heaves her against the table then slips his arm around her throat and constricts as tight as he can.

She chokes, clawing at his forearm.

\-------- [Why Me – unloved]

**CAIRO**  
Arnau races down the street on a dirt bike wearing a glossy black helmet. He weaves around cars and trucks calculating which gaps to hit and when to swerve.

He glances at the watch on his wrist.

21:09 EET

He hits the throttle speeding faster.

He notes the street signs and clutches the brake flying around turns, knees almost skimming the pavement.

He revs the engine and shifts into a higher gear, zooming past parked cars and pedestrians walking along the dimly lit side streets.

He keeps his eyes up ahead, locking them onto a glowing neon sign. He unzips his leather jacket, shifting his weight side to side to steer the bike.

His fingers find the automatic gun slung on his back.

He glances down at the speedometer.

70 km/h

He cranks the throttle racing faster still. The neon sign gets closer and closer.

“Sin agallas no hay gloria,” he mutters to himself.

Arnau flies down the street. He pulls the gun from his jacket as he passes the shop two away from the restaurant with the neon sign overhead.

He pulls the trigger spraying bullets as he speeds past.

Muyiwa leans against the wall smoking a cigarette. Bullet holes scatter the stucco, several ripping through him. He falls back and slides to the ground leaving a trail of blood on the wall behind him.

Arnau twists the throttle as far as it will go.

**GANJA, AZERBAIJAN**  
Amin runs down a dirt alley between adobe buildings. Dariush and three other strong jawed men dressed in black run alongside him.

Dariush checks his shoulder, two other men chase after them.

“Faster!” he shouts in Arabic.

They press on, kicking up dirt beneath their boots.

Dariush glances back, one of the men pulls a gun. He exchanges a look with the man running next to him. They both nod.

Dariush grabs Amin’s shoulder and pulls him down the narrow alley to the left. Another guard follows them while two stay behind and engage their pursuers.

Gunshots echo around the walls.

“Up there!” the other guard points to a flight of stairs.

They all run faster.

More gunshots ring out.

Dariush runs up the stairs drawing his gun as he ascends. He whips through the doorway then creeps along the walls, clearing the room.

Amin and the other guard stand against the wall outside the doorway.

Dariush pops out and grips Amin’s jacket and pulls him inside. The other guard follows behind.

Dariush leads them through the second story of a rug shop, shoving past hanging fabric and clearing each room as he proceeds.

They reach a balcony with a flight of stairs leading back to the ground.

“Up here,” Dariush nods at the ledge leading up to the roof.

Amin jumps and Dariush hoists him up, then pulls his gun and shoots the other guard between the eyes, kicking his body down the stairs.

Dariush flings himself up onto the roof. Amin grabs him from behind. He spins and clocks Amin with the grip of his gun.

Amin stumbles back reaching for his gun. Dariush shoots him in the shoulder. He strides up to him revealing in the fear in his eyes.

“I’m done taking orders from you.”

He shoots Amin in the chest.

His legs give way and he crumples to the ground.

Dariush slips the gun back in his belt and sprints across the roof, jumping the gap to the building on the other side.

**KATHMANDU, NEPAL**  
Liao laughs hard with friends seated at a round table, a red hookah in the center, coals glowing orange in the tray.

She takes a puff from one of the hoses and blows out a billowing cloud of smoke.

A dark-haired woman puffs on the other hose and smiles.

“I knew you would like mango,” Liao grins.

The woman laughs, “Now all we need is another drink.”

Liao glances around the bustling lounge, scanning the room.

Her eyes land on their server.

Jin.

They lock eyes.

Jin strides over, stealing a glance at the clock on the wall.

00:56 NPT

“How are you liking this flavor?”

The dark-haired woman nods as she puffs on the hose.

“We need another round of shots. Maybe two for each of us.”

Everyone laughs.

Jin smiles but there’s no warmth behind her dark eyes.

“Right away.”

She glides behind the bar and lines up eight shot glasses, filling them to the brim with raksi.

She slips a minute vial from her pocket. One shot glass gets three drops of a clear liquid.

She carries the tray high above her head, veering around tables and other servers, making her way back to Liao’s table.

Liao inhales smoke. “Ah, she’s back,” she blows it out with the words.

Jin distributes the shot glasses around the table, saving Liao’s for last. She carefully sets it in front of her with a grin.

“Ciyarsa.” Cheers.

“Oh, we’ll need more of the mango.”

Liao grabs the shot glass.

Jin nods, “Right away.”

Liao and her friends clink glasses then hit the bottom on the table and toss back the liquor.

Jin slinks away towards the back exit.

Liao laughs, “We are living like royalty tonight.”

She puffs hard on the hose, holding the smoke in her lungs then blowing it out of her mouth in three separate streams.

Her smile fades.

The inhaled and ingested toxins react.

Her shoulders shudder then her body violently convulses knocking glasses to the floor and shattering them. She grips the edge of the table as she thrashes in her seat.

Her friends watch in horror, then the rest of the lounge.

Liao jerks around sharply then shoots up straight, stiff as a board. She tips back slowly in her chair toppling over to the floor.

Jin flees down the quiet streets in the late night. She navigates down narrow lanes taking quick turns, not walking in the same direction for long.

She holds up in a doorway and quickly texts on her phone then hurries along.

She makes it to a small scooter, shaking hands unlocking the chain. As she gets on the red dot of a laser sight appears on her forehead. She sees it in the reflection of the shop window.

A single crack pop echoes.

She tumbles to the asphalt.

\--------

**SOUTHWARK**  
Jess stares at a monitor, her jaw dropped.

“What the hell was that?” 

“What is happening?” Elena frets.

She frantically clicks on her keyboard, zooming in on the footage showing Jin crumpled on the street, people panicking around her.

Bear tears open a new bag of Tangfastics.

“Was that not supposed to happen?”

“No!” Jess and Elena shout in unison.

“Oh my God!” Elena types furiously.

Jess scans the monitors.

“Oh God, what?”

“No, I just really should have learned Italian.”

Elena squints at her laptop screen.

Bear chews slowly as he watches them.

“If these are all CCTV, won’t the people who own the cameras be able to see all this?”

Elena drums her fingers on top of the keys but doesn’t press down.

“The program erases all the footage before it can be stored.”

“Huh. The seems-“

“Highly illegal. Yeah it is.”

Jess rests her forehead in her hand, “Oh my God. Things started out so well. Actually no, they’ve been wrong from the start.”

She looks over at Bear, “What else do you have in your bag?”

The screen dings.

They all snap their attention to the screen.

~~Liao Zexian~~

Two more dings.

~~Muyiwa Nwogu~~

~~Amin Salehi~~

Elena blinks, “Okay. Well. That’s good isn’t it? People are still getting murdered out there.”

Bear rummages around his backpack and pulls out a bag of Walkers and a bag of Wine Gums.

“Or there’s Wotsits. Or Maltesers”

Jess sighs, “The Walkers.”

“And the Wine Gums,” Elena chimes in.

Bear hands Elena the Walkers. She passes them to Jess without taking her eyes off the screen.

Bear hands her the Wine Gums.

“Open it. Please.”

He pulls it open.

Jess throws a few chips in her mouth.

“If Mariella killed Saverio,” she chews, “then where’s that operative?”

Bear hands Elena the opened bag.

“Do you think it was her? Who shot Jin?”

Jess crunches, “Maybe? I mean, who else could it be right? Right?”

“Oh God.” Elena eats a handful of gummies.

They all scan the monitors.

“Maybe there was a secondary mission?” Bear offers with a shrug.

Elena rolls her eyes, “There was no-“

**PARIS**  
Jana is dressed in matching black cargo pants, vest, gaiter, goggles, and helmet. She carries an M16 with a suppressor on the end, slinking against the walls as she makes her way down long hallways.

A guard flies around a corner. She guns him down then swiftly jogs ahead. Three bodies lie on the floor behind her.

She throws open the last door on the right and hits the lights.

Irina stands in the center of the room fiercely gripping a knife, eyes big.

“Who are you?!”

Jana lowers her gun.

“Your organization has been compromised. You’re being moved to a safe house.”

She pulls off her goggles and face mask, looking slightly less hostile that way.

“We need to go.”

“I don’t wa-“

“Now.”

\--------

**THE SAVOY LONDON**  
[We Are Unloved – Unloved]  
Hélène swings the shard as Villanelle decks her across the face and heaves her onto the broken glass with a growl. She backs away clutching the laceration in her chest, blood trickling down her front. Hélène rolls to her feet and steps out of the bits of glass, calculating her next move.

They size each other up.

Villanelle clenches her jaw trying to force the pain away but it pulses throughout her body, aching deep in her bones and muscles. Hélène hunches over, wincing as each breath pushes against fractured ribs. She wields a jagged sliver of glass, not caring that it cuts into her hand.

“Without The Twelve you are nothing, Villanelle. Just a brutal killer.”

Villanelle strides at her trying to conceal a limp. She curls her lips in a vicious smirk.

“You just gave me a really good idea.”

She scoops up bits of glass and hurls them at Hélène then tackles her to the ground, kneeing her repeatedly in the ribs, yelling and driving her legs with all her might. Hélène elbows her in the face busting her lip. Villanelle climbs on her back.

Hélène wills herself to her feet and slams Villanelle back into the fireplace then heaves her over her shoulder and lands on top of her. She scrambles for the sliver of glass. Villanelle catches her ankle and rips her back.

They wrestle trying to pin each other down both failing. Fragments of glass slice into them as they grapple trying to gain an advantage.

Villanelle uses all her strength and presses Hélène against the floor with her forearm. She straddles her and beats her across the face.

Hélène reaches back desperately for a shard of glass as Villanelle slugs her in the jaw, cheek, nose, expending all of her energy. Hélène reaches farther, the life getting pummeled out of her. 

Her fingers find it.

She stabs Villanelle in the hip; she cries out.

Hélène drags herself out from underneath Villanelle and kicks her in the chin knocking her on her back. Villanelle writhes on the floor as pain shreds her apart.

Hélène slowly gets her knees under her body, then her hands, standing and swaying as blood pours from her broken nose and the gashes covering her face. She staggers and seizes the iron bust from the mantel. Villanelle watches from the ground, hands around the glass in her hip. She whimpers as she tries to pull at it.

Tears streak through the blood coating her face. Thoughts of Eve swirl around her hazy mind.

Her curls, her touch, the way she smiles when she rolls her eyes.

She refuses to relent. The glass slices her palm as she wraps her hand around it.

Hélène stumbles over sneering with rancor, her malevolent eyes fixed on Villanelle as she pushes herself up on her elbow, grimacing from pain.

Hélène tightens her grasp on the bust, “You can’t kill me, Villanelle. You never were going to be able to.” She locks her icy stare on Villanelle’s dark eyes, the tiniest hint of fear behind them. “You are not such a perfect assassin after all.”

She raises the bust above her head as Villanelle rips the glass from her hip and pounces. She stabs it into Hélène’s eye and claws her to the ground.

She jerks the jagged shard free. “I am not the monster you want me to be!” she screams enraged.

She swings the razor-sharp edge back and forth across Hélène’s throat spattering blood all over herself and the white rug. Hélène gurgles as Villanelle watches the life drain from her eyes, snarling her lips in a frenzy. She whips the glass back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, growling like a tiger as it shreds apart its prey.

Finally, her arm tires.

She tosses the glass aside. It skirts along the floor doused in blood.

She hobbles to her feet almost falling over as she takes a step on her injured leg. She limps to the couch wincing with each stride. She flops down, falling back into the cushions, blood staining the white fabric. Bruises cover her jaw and a slash from the stiletto rips across her cheek. The gash in her eyebrow starts to clot, the tear in her chest still bleeds.

She presses her hands against the wound in her leg and cringes with a whine.

It hurts.

A lot.

She slips her phone out of her pocket and dials a number, smudging blood on the screen.

It rings once.

“Vypolneno usp-”

A tone cuts her off.

“Vypolneno uspeshno!” she yells into the phone.

\--------

**LAMBETH**  
[Sigh – Unloved]  
Eve and Helen stare at each other across the long table.

“So what’s it going to be, Eve?” Helen asks, shaking her head and bobbing her curls around. 

“The end," Eve replies, her dark eyes razor-sharp. "The end of The Twelve, end of lying and deceit. End of using people to get information only to betray them afterwards.”

“What, you think you’re above all that? That’s what you’ve been doing this entire time!” Helen fumes, throwing her hands as she talks. "You deliberately disobeyed orders, you went behind Carolyn’s back, you sabotaged operations for the sake of saving an assassin, and you left an agent for dead! Never mind the fact that you and Villanelle have killed, not one, not two, but _three_ seniors MI6 operatives! So it’s a little blurry whose side you’re really on!”

Eve’s eyes sharpen. “I know why I’m here, why I’m doing this.” She scoffs, “I’m not claiming to be-“

“Oh none of us are really who we claim to be. Some of us are just better actors is all.”

Eve glares at Helen, fire in her eyes. “Yeah well I’m done pretending.” She throws up a hand, “Done being an agent for MI6, done with bullshit operations, done with being disrespected by you and Carolyn and whoever else.” Her fierce gaze cuts across the room. “I know who I am now.”

Helen smirks, animosity behind her eyes. “Carolyn may be an imperious and self-important operative but she was right about one thing. Your interest in Villanelle was…oh how does psychology like to phrase it? Sublimation. Obsessing over a female assassin because you were envious you couldn’t do it yourself.”

Eve lets out a laugh and shakes her head. She steps away from the table.

“Do you know how freeing it is to function outside of society? To be totally driven by impulse?” She stalks towards Helen. “To give in to your darkest urges never once caring about the consequence.”

“You’re living in a delusion if you think you can keep up that charade forever.”

Eve slinks towards Helen like a panther stalking its helpless prey.

“I have never felt more alive in my life.” Her eyes flicker.

“You’re going to kill me then?" Helen scowls, eyes disdainful. "A stone’s throw from MI6, is that it?”

Eve ignores the jab, absorbed by her own thoughts. She glides her nails across the table as she slinks closer.

“Villanelle,” she laughs to herself, “gave me so much...clarity.” She grins, breathing heavily. “God, it was like I recognized myself in the mirror, for the very first time.” She stalks closer, keen eyes trained on Helen. “And there’s no one else in the world who could understand that. Who could understand me. Except her.”

Helen narrows her eyes and scoffs a laugh.

“Now it all makes sense." She leers at Eve, eyes contemptuous. “You get off on it,” she spits.

Eve smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She pulls a gun from her hip.

“Yeah,” she breathes out.

Helen shakes her head. “You don’t know what to do with that.”

Eve slides her finger over the trigger.

“I do.”

She fires twice hitting Helen in the chest, the shots muffled by a silencer. Helen groans and falls back in her chair, blood seeping from the wounds near her heart. She holds her chest as her eyes fix up on the ceiling, barren. Eve lets out a wobbly breath and lowers the gun as two deep voices grumble out in the hall.

Her head snaps towards the door.

“Oh God.”

She slips the gun back into her waistband and scrambles over to her chair, throwing on her jacket and zipping it with trembly fingers. She hurries to the door and opens it a crack to peer out.

Two built and bulky men dressed in black stick their heads in every door in the hallway.

Eve’s eyes dart around as she decides her move. She peers back out. The men are three doors away. One steps into the room down the hall.

“Look at this.”

The taller man follows him inside. They both laugh hard.

Eve takes a deep breath then pops out the door and bolts towards the stairwell at the end of the hall. She reaches for the door as the taller man steps back into the hall.

“Hey!”

They run after her.

Eve flies down flights of stairs as fast as she can, winding her way down to ground level. The men chase after her, flinging around the corners. Her thoughts are rapid and frantic.

Next floor?

Other exit?

Hide?

Shoot?

She dashes past the door for the next floor.

There goes that option.

The men skip steps as they hurtle down after her, gaining ground. The taller man in front pulls a gun.

Eve glances over her shoulder.

“No, no, no!”

She hurries faster, only one floor from ground level. The men whip around the corners and leap down stairs closing the distance, only two flights behind her.

Eve sprints down the last flight, the exit right in front of her. She throws open the heavy metal door as the taller man rattles off several shots hitting her in the back as the door closes behind her.

\-------- [Mirza – Nino Ferrer]

**BUENOS AIRES**  
Thaís steers a deep-sea fishing boat back towards the shore, the late afternoon sun starting to get low on the horizon. The bow rams into swells bobbing the boat up and down in large surges. Fishing poles and spears raise up from the back of the boat. The reel of one pole spins furiously, line getting yanked out. The spool gets lower and lower the reel rotating so fast it nearly flies off the rod.

The line snaps.

Valeria runs out of the cabin.

They speak in Spanish.

“What are you doing?” Valeria snaps, “You just lost my fish!”

Thaís looks over her shoulder and eases back on the throttle.

“I’m sorry I can’t watch the poles and drive at the same time.”

“That’s your whole job!”

Valeria retrieves her pole and chucks it on the deck. Thaís restrains an angry glare.

“Take mine,” she offers as Valeria is already grabbing the other pole. She reels the line slowly, feeling the tension.

Thaís retrieves Valeria’s pole from the deck and secures it back in the rack.

“You caught seabass, flounder, and amberjack. That’s more than a group charter.”

Valeria continues to crank the reel, “I could have caught a shark if you hadn’t snapped the line!”

Thaís slips a curved fishing knife from her shorts.

“There will always be more to catch.” She slinks up behind Valeria. “Or you can try the river for dorado.”

Valeria clicks her tongue and shakes her head as she returns the pole to the rack.

“This could have-“

Thaís slips one hand over Valeria’s mouth and slits her throat with the other. Blood spurts all over the white finish of the boat as Valeria crumples to the deck. Thaís chucks the knife into the ocean then lugs hefty marine batteries over and ties them to Valeria’s ankles with thick rope. She hauls her body up onto the edge of the boat.

A pool of blood sloshes back and forth on the deck.

Thaís catches her breath then shoves Valeria over the edge, heaving the batteries into the sea after her.

“Sleep with the fishes.”

**TOKYO**  
Okuda sits in the back of a taxi watching the vivid billboards and flashing lights pass by, the sky still dark in the early hours of the morning. Neon signs glow in every color, banners rove across buildings, panels of lights blink and change designs.

The taxi travels along on the expressway passing tall buildings that rise up into the sky then underground through a long tunnel. The city is just starting to wake up. More cars enter on-ramps and pedestrians start to appear shuffling down the sidewalks. Storefronts zoom by out the window then the gardens and ponds of Chiyoda City on the way to Otemachi Tower.

The taxi pulls up to the front.

Okuda pays then briskly walks into the building, taking the elevators up to Aman Tokyo on the top floors. 

Her heels echo around the empty hotel lobby.

She strides through the inner garden with its vaulted ceilings, slate walls, and box lamps giving off a warm orange glow. Tall windows look out to the tops of neighboring high-rise buildings.

Okuda makes her way to the elevators taking one up to the top floor. She checks her watch.

04:16 JST

She unzips her coat to reveal a spa uniform underneath.

The elevator dings, the doors open. She swiftly strides down the corridor to the room at the end then knocks on the door.

Na answers with a scowl.

They speak in Japanese.

“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. My flight leaves at 6:00.”

“My sincerest apologies.”

Na lets Okuda into the ultramodern suite with bamboo woods and white walls, black metal accents. A massage table is set up near the windows that look out to the cityscape, the sky barely starting to brighten.

Na slips out of her robe and slides under the sheet on the table.

“Getting a massage before and after flying is the only way to travel.”

Okuda sets her coat on the back of a chair.

“Please, start on your back.”

Na gets situated on the table. Okuda slides a cushion under her knees.

“Comfortable?”

“Enough.”

Okuda presses her hands on Na’s shins and up her legs then steps around the table and presses on her shoulders and chest. Na shifts around.

Okuda smiles.

She breaks Na’s neck in one fluid motion then slips her coat back on and heads for the door.

\--------

**SOUTHWARK**  
Jess holds her hands on the back of her head.

“Okay. I officially no longer have any idea what’s going on.”

Bear chews noisily. He points to the monitor showing Okuda fleeing towards the stairwell.

“I think someone just got killed in that hotel room.”

Elena rubs her forehead, “Oh my God.”

She shoves a handful of gummies in her mouth.

“If the whole thing hasn’t gone up in flames by now,” she chews, “then we should get four more notifications.”

They all stare at the larger screen, seven targets already executed, and eat another handful of their snack, chewing slowly.

The screen dings; Jess flinches.

“God why’d I jump? I’m staring right at it.”

~~Valeria Sandino~~

Their eyes widen, waiting.

It dings again.

~~Na Seung-Yun~~

A different tone rings.

Villanelle’s raspy voice comes through the speaker, “Vypolneno uspeshno!” 

~~Hélène Périer~~

Elena lets out a laugh in surprise, “She actually did it.”

Jess tosses the bag of Walkers on the desk and dials a number on her phone.

“Yeah. The Savoy.”

A muffled response.

“Probably a lot.”

A heavy sigh.

“Thanks.”

Elena looks over with a furrowed brow, “Who was that?”

“Clean-up.”

“What, really?”

Jess sighs and rolls her eyes, “They always need it.”

She shakes her head and snatches the bag of chips.

Elena squints at the monitors, “Well, where does that leave us?”

Bear nods at the screen, “Eve hasn’t responded yet.”

Elena sighs, “Or Marion.”

“Yeah, who is that by the way?” Jess interjects.

“God, she’s terrifying. Makes Villanelle look like a cuddly teddy bear.”

Bear swallows hard.

Elena hangs her head, “Oh God. Well...”

She checks the clock.

20:18 BST

“They still have seven minutes.”

Jess nods, eyes glancing around anxiously.

“Maybe they’re just…” she shrugs, “you know…”

“Just what?”

Jess frowns, “I don’t know.” She gets an idea. “Maybe Eve just forgot to call in?” her tone lifts, more hopeful.

“That’s…possible actually,” Elena sighs. “Come on, Eve,” she groans.

Bear points at a monitor, “What was that?”

Elena heaves the bag of gummies and grabs her laptop.

“Which screen?”

“Second one down on the left.”

Elena types and rewinds the footage on the monitor second down on the right.

“Other le-”

“I know, I know.” She clicks away. “I do not like being in charge of this.”

She rewinds the footage on the proper screen.

Adalene walks down the sidewalk with a group of people outside a bar, all smiling. A masked figure runs up on the group and pulls a gun. Adalene recoils and grips her chest then collapses to the pavement.

Elena jaw falls open, then Jess’s.

“Oh.”

“My God.”

Bear watches them with big eyes.

“That…wasn’t a good thing,” he cringes.

Elena stands slowly, “Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God!”

“Elena, what are-“

“Oh my God! What if they’re going after Carolyn?!”

She scrambles for her backpack, fumbling around with the zipper.

“Oh my God!”

Jess jumps out of her chair, “What are you doing?”

“I have to go warn her!”

She stares at Jess, eyes wild, car keys in hand.

“What? Elena, no. You can’t go out there!”

“We can’t do nothing!”

She throws on her jacket.

“Can’t you just call her?” Bear offers.

Jess’s shoulders drop, “I’ll go with-“

“No, you have a kid!”

Elena’s eyes dart around the room.

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath, “I’m going.”

She runs for the door.

“Elena!”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” trails off as she runs down the hall.

Bear stares at Jess who looks blankly at the screens, a bit shaken.

She opens her mouth as if to say something important.

“Okay,” she sighs out.

“Well. That was-“

She remembers the other crisis.

“Oh God, Eve.”

\--------

**KYIV**  
Rodavan constricts his arm around Marion’s throat. She digs her nails into him, her eyes glued to the monitor displaying Adalene on the pavement, blood pooling around her. 

Her eyes water as he chokes her.

“You are going to end up like your secret intelligence friends,” he spits.

She draws blood with her nails. He squeezes tighter. Darkness creeps into the edges of her vision. She struggles harder as he lifts her up by her throat, her feet off the ground. She cringes and digs deep for a last spurt of energy.

She reaches back and grabs his groin crushing and twisting as hard as she can. He yells and releases his hold.

Her feet land back on the ground. She hacks and wheezes in air, black spots floating around her vision. She elbows him in the gut and wrenches his arm forcing him down to the ground then snaps his elbow the wrong way under her knee; he howls.

She coughs and sucks in air, rubbing her throat and blinking, trying to bring the spinning room back into focus. He kneels, huffing through the pain, his broken arm dangling limply. He sets his jaw and stands, slipping off his belt.

They lock their ruthless eyes on each other, searching for a weakness.

Bruises start to form around Marion’s throat. One eye black and bloodshot and the slash in her arm leaks blood.

Rodavan’s arm hangs awkwardly. His broken nose and split lip ooze and his shirt around the stab wound in his stomach is drenched in blood.

They face-off, the gun and knife both behind Marion.

Rodavan wields his belt. Marion pants out a laugh and puts up her fists.

“I have always liked you, Rodavan. You enjoy killing almost as much as I do.”

“You will not survive this, Marion.”

“I have never failed an assignment. And I don’t plan to now.”

He whips his belt catching her under the chin with the buckle. She jerks back then kicks him in the stomach making the wound bleed more. She snatches the belt and wraps her hand around it, spinning and kicking his broken arm. He goes down with a howl pulling her down with him. She scrambles to her feet and knees him in the face.

He growls and flings himself up kicking her in the thigh with a crack. She slumps against the table, pain radiating from her leg, then he grabs her throat and head butts her, shoving her to the ground. She fumbles around, a high-pitched ringing growing louder in her ears.

Rodavan hunches over on the table, blood gushing through his fingers.

Their eyes find the gun on the other side of the room.

Marion scurries under the table as he launches himself across the surface, landing on top of her on the other side. They both flounder around dazed and fatiguing. She tries to stands; he brings his elbow down between her shoulders.

They fumble on the floor, pain and exhaustion starting to sink its teeth into them both.

Rodavan huffs labored breaths as he struggles to stand. Marion stumbles to her feet in front of him. He heaves her against the desk and she crashes into it, her strength diminishing. He picks up the metal chair with his good arm and uses all of his energy to bang it against her body. She takes a beating, trying to protect her head but exposing her ribs.

He clobbers her relentlessly.

She clutches the keyboard and jabs it into his throat as he goes for another swing. The chair clamors to the ground. She braces herself on the desk, wheezing as she shuffles towards the gun on the ground two meters away. He grabs her hair and rips her down; she yelps.

He staggers forward. She strikes him in the hip with both feet and he bangs into the table.

Their eyes zero in on the gun.

He dives for it as she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, lugging the row of filing cabinets off the wall and crashing onto him but not before he fires two shots.

\--------

**CITY OF LONDON**  
Konstantin smiles weakly at Carolyn.

“You will do that, for her?”

“I felt like it was the only solution.” She shrugs, “Marion was able to facilitate the rescue.”

Konstantin takes a breath and nods, sniffling back emotions.

“Thank you, Carolyn. I can’t tell you,” he puts his hand on his heart, “how much that means.” 

“Now we have to address the more unfortunate side of things.”

His eyes fill with worry.

Elena’s Volkswagen speeds down the street. She throws it in park and jumps out.

[Bill – Unloved] 

Carolyn’s frigid glare penetrates into him.

“You killed my son, Konstantin. And I lost my daughter because of you.”

He grimaces and shakes his head, looking out the window with despondent eyes.

“Killing me won’t bring them back.”

Carolyn catches movement in the mirror in her periphery.

“No.”

He turns slowly to see the pistol in her gloved hands, the silencer pointed at him.

“But it will tip the scales more towards justice. And I will find solace in that.”

Her eyes dart to the mirror on Konstantin’s side. Elena runs down the sidewalk shouting and waving her arms. Carolyn tightens her grip on the gun and looks at Konstantin with determination in her eyes, a touch of sadness behind them.

“This was always to be unavoidable.”

Konstantin frowns, tears coming to his woeful eyes.

“One of us had to go down. And it certainly wasn’t going to be me.”

She fires twice. Konstantin’s eyes fly open in surprise. He gasps and clutches his chest, eyes glossing over. His face pales as blood rushes through his fingers.

Carolyn closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath then throws the car door open leaving the gun on Konstantin’s lap.

Elena runs towards her, frazzled and panicked.

“Carolyn!”

Carolyn looks at her like she’s lost her mind.

“We have to go, now!”

Carolyn shrugs, unbothered, “What are-”

Elena grabs her arm, “Come on!”

She pulls her away from the car then looks over her shoulder.

“What about-“

“Never mind.”

Elena hurries her along.

“Elena-“

An explosion blasts; they whip down to the pavement.

Their ears ring.

The ground feels like it shifts beneath them.

Elena pats down her body making sure she’s all still there. She looks over at Carolyn who hunches on the ground, a look of utter shock on her face. They exchange a look of distress then both stand slowly, eyes immediately jumping to the smoldering Mercedes up the street.

Elena glances over at Carolyn, then at the fiery car, then at the one Carolyn just came out of. She shakes her head trying to get her brain to work again. Her face blanks as she works through her jumbled thoughts.

“Did you…“

Carolyn nods as she takes a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

She sighs, “Use a car double, yes.”

Elena scrunches her brow, “What? But, how’d…“

Carolyn stares at the flaming wreckage.

“If you don’t choose love, by default you choose death.”

“What? Is that supposed to mean something?”

Carolyn sighs heavily, then brushes off her coat and readjusts the collar in an attempt to settle her emotions. She strides up the sidewalk.

“Let’s get your car," she says over her shoulder. "And call Jess to request clean-up.”

Elena stands there dumbfounded for a moment.

“Uh,” she shrugs it off, “yeah, okay.”

She catches up to Carolyn, her lips pursed.

“And Elena.”

Elena looks over, uncertain and fearful for what could come next.

“Thank you,” Carolyn grins.

\--------

**EUSTON STATION**  
[Cry Baby Cry – Unloved]  
Villanelle limps down the aisle and falls into her window seat. The passengers seated across from her watch with big eyes, taking in her battered face and the shred of fabric tied around her leg, blood seeping through. She flicks her dark eyes at them. They all quickly divert their gaze.

She sighs and clenches her jaw rapidly, staring out the window at the train platform as she bounces her leg. She wipes the face of her watch on her slacks and checks the time.

21:14 BST

She slumps back in her seat and closes her eyes, taking shaky breaths, eyes in anguish.

An announcement comes on over the intercom.

“Doors closing. Train for departing for Gatwick airport in ten minutes.”

She creases her brow and shakes her head, fighting back tears. Her heart thuds harder in her chest. A quick movement outside the window catches her attention. Her eyes grow bigger.

Eve sprints down the train platform full force, a look of panic on her face. She yells into her phone.

“Eve!” Villanelle shouts at the window.

The passengers steal another glance.

She hits the window, “Eve!” But she knows Eve’s not going to make it in time.

Villanelle flies out of her seat and hobbles towards the doors, pushing the man stowing his bag out of the way. She moves as fast as she can, barreling down the aisle, shoving a woman and child to the side. She slips out at the last second, nearly getting squished.

She jogs with a limp down the platform towards the front of the train. Eve flies down on the other side.

Villanelle starts to run.

“Eve!”

She looks over, relief replacing panic.

“Run!” she yells, her voice frantic.

Villanelle’s face twists with confusion. She ignores the stabbing pain in her leg and picks up her pace, matching Eve’s.

They run down parallel platforms.

Villanelle glances over her shoulder and notices the two men chasing after Eve. Adrenaline surges through her.

Eve steals a quick look at Villanelle.

“Why didn’t you come home?!” she yells across the tracks.

“I did!”

Eve grunts, “Why did you leave before I got home?!”

“You needed a little motivation!”

“Are you kidding me?! I was already going to do it!”

Villanelle notices the bullet holes in the back of Eve’s jacket, Kevlar showing underneath.

“Eve, did you get shot?!”

She doesn’t respond. She focuses on running, pumping her arms and ignoring the fire in her lungs.

“I knew you would need the vest!” Villanelle yells at her.

The train whistle blows. The wheels squeak and start to turn.

Eve notices the fabric tied clumsily around Villanelle’s leg.

“What happened to your leg?!”

“What does it look like?!”

Eve pants hard.

“How are you running?”

“I don’t know!”

They approach the end of the platform. Eve’s side ends before Villanelle’s. She looks over her shoulder, the men are biting at her heels. She glances back at Villanelle, panic in her eyes again. She’s forced to slow her pace to a stop. Villanelle matches her on the other side.

The train starts to rumble down the tracks.

Eve grimaces, “No.”

“Eve!” Villanelle yells across the tracks.

“Villanelle!” Eve screams.

“Eve, you have to jump across!”

The men close down the distance, huffing as they make their final sprint for Eve.

“Vill!” Eve cries, fear in her voice.

“Eve, jump!” Villanelle yells, her voice shaky.

Tears form in Eve’s eyes. The train picks up speed towards them. The men run as hard as they can.

Eve and Villanelle stare at each other across the tracks, suffering in agony.

Tears stream down Eve’s cheeks. Villanelle shakes her head, grimacing, tears hovering in her eyes.

“No, Eve,” she moans. A tear falls. “Jump, now!” she implores.

Eve yells.

She sprints and leaps off the platform.

\--------

**KYIV**  
[J’Arrive A Toi – Carla Bruni]  
Marion moans as she clutches the wounds in her stomach. Blood soaks her sweatshirt seeping through into her fingers. Tears fall down her cheeks as she applies more pressure with a whimper. Rodavan struggles under the weight of the filing cabinets. His lower body crushed underneath, only part of his torso and broken arm free.

The gun lies on the ground near his hand.

Marion pants heavily out her nose, holding an arm over her stomach as she drags herself across the floor. She crawls over, groaning in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rodavan tries to push himself up, grimacing as he lifts his broken arm. She inches across the floor losing more and more blood.

He scowls at her, watching as her face loses color. They stare into each other’s desolate eyes and for a fraction of a second both have pity.

Marion reaches for the gun with quivering fingers. She secures the grip in her hand and shoots Rodavan point-blank in the forehead; blood splatters her face. She falls on her back, panting in shallow breaths, moaning, not caring that she’s crying.

Because everything hurts.

A lot.

She grunts and hauls herself away from him, scooting across the floor with her boots, her body trembling as she lifts herself up and slumps against the wall. She sucks in air, more tears falling from her forlorn brown eyes. She yells and pulls her sweatshirt over the back of her head, yanking it off her body, having to pause, wincing, breathing through the pain.

She clenches her jaw and ties it over the wounds, pulling the sleeves as tight as possible. Her eyes drift farther away as she stares up at the ceiling wheezing in labored breaths. She grunts and slips her phone out of her back pocket, the screen cracked.

She dials a number with shaky fingers.

It rings once then a tone sounds.

“C'est fait.”

\--------

**EUSTON STATION**  
Villanelle pulls Eve up from the tracks, cringing as she strains her aching muscles. They both tremble, hearts pounding unbearably fast.

The train rumbles by.

Eve had two more seconds tops.

Villanelle clutches Eve’s arms, “Are you okay?”

Eve furrows her brow, taking in the bloody gashes on Villanelle’s black and blue face. She gently caresses her cheek, “Are you?”

Villanelle nods absently then throws her arms around Eve. Eve wraps her arms around Villanelle holding her tight. The heaving of their chests slows as their hearts ease.

The front half of the train roars out of the station.

Villanelle pulls away, her eyes distant. She strokes her thumb down Eve’s jaw, all her knuckles bruised. She grins to one side, looking into Eve’s worried eyes.

“Go. Eve,” she says, her voice calm.

Fear floods Eve’s dark eyes.

“What? No.” Eve holds her tighter. “I’m not leaving you.”

Villanelle creases her brow, “What no, I’m going with you.”

The last train car rolls by, the men lock their eyes on Eve and Villanelle.

Villanelle grabs Eve’s hand.

“We need to go.”

She pulls her along towards the exit.

\-------- [Mosaic – Unloved]

Eve holds Villanelle’s hand, leading her down the sidewalk as they skulk along in the darkness.

“Are they coming?”

Villanelle checks her shoulder, “I can’t see them.” She squints, “But it’s very dark.”

Eve pulls her along faster. She hobbles trying to keep up.

“I can’t go that fast,” she whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Eve stops, “Oh God. Sorry.”

She looks at Villanelle’s leg, assessing it for the first time. Even in the dark she can tell the fabric over the wound is soaked.

She squeezes Villanelle’s warm hand, “Okay. Okay, okay. Um…”

She runs her hand over her curls as she thinks up a plan. Villanelle pulls her out of the glow of the street light and into the shadows against the building.

“We have to-“

“I have an idea,” Eve cuts her off.

They both glance down the sidewalk. Villanelle looks into Eve’s determined eyes.

“What?”

Eve stares at her.

“Eve. What are you thinking?”

“Come on,” Eve pulls her towards the alley.

She walks slowly, Villanelle limping beside her.

“Eve, tell-“

“We have to kill them.”

Villanelle stops walking and clutches Eve’s hand tighter. She gives her a stern look.

“Eve.”

Eve pulls her hand free. She lugs the dumpster away from the brick wall creating a space behind then pushes the stack of wooden pallets in front to make a barrier to hide behind.

“Get behind that.”

“What? No.”

“Get behind it!”

Eve glares at her with steely dark eyes. Villanelle huffs and concedes, limping around the other side. She knows now not to get in Eve’s way when her eyes look like that. She watches her, frustrated she’s the one who needs protecting.

Eve slips out the gun.

Villanelle’s eyes widen, “You have a gun?”

Eve doesn’t respond to the question.

“Stay behind that.”

She strides towards the street.

“Eve, no. Don’t be brave!”

Eve sticks her head around the corner and glances down the street. The men jog down the sidewalk in their direction. She secures her hold on the gun, keeping it behind her back then steps out from around the corner. The men recognize her figure and break into a run.

She flies back around as Villanelle tries to awkwardly climb over the pallets.

“Get out of the way!”

Villanelle hobbles back on one leg. Eve practically tackles her to the ground, out of harm’s way. They fumble around on the asphalt then both crouch behind the pallets, Villanelle wincing.

“What are you-“

Eve throws her hand back at Villanelle then raises her head above the pallets, gun aimed towards the street. The men lumber around the corner. Eve fires at them, hitting them both as the taller man whips out his gun.

Villanelle grips Eve’s jacket and pulls her to the ground. They exchange a look; Eve resolute, Villanelle furious.

Eve climbs around her staying low to the ground. Villanelle glares at her as she slinks to the end of the dumpster.

Eve tries to look around the other side but can’t get a good visual. She forces herself not to look back at Villanelle who peers through the pallets to see one man on his back, a puddle of blood around him, the other staggering to his feet against the wall, gun in hand. Eve sidesteps down the other side of the dumpster keeping her back pressed against the cold metal.

Villanelle tenses.

Eve doesn’t see him.

She heaves a rock over the top and it clunks on the asphalt drawing the man’s attention as Eve whips around and fires two shots dropping him to the ground.

Villanelle lets out a relieved breath.

“Get over here!” she snaps.

Eve dashes around to the other side, smiling when she sees Villanelle scowling with worry.

“Don’t ever do something like that without telling me again.”

Villanelle uses the wall to get herself to her feet. Eve tucks the gun away.

“Come on.” Eve takes her hand. “We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I know. You just killed two people in the middle of the sidewalk.”

They hustle down the alley to the street on the other side, poking their heads around the corner before starting down the sidewalk.

The streets are rather quiet.

Eve leads Villanelle, slower than before, her limp more pronounced.

Villanelle glances at Eve, the look of determination still on her face.

“I have an idea,” she tosses out.

“No.”

Eve’s eyes fix on the woman opening her car door up ahead.

Villanelle huffs, “You’re allowed to have ideas but I am not?”

Eve whips the gun back out, “Get out of the car!”

The woman looks over with huge terrified eyes.

“Get out!” Eve screams.

The woman throws her hands up and quickly backs away.

Villanelle sets her jaw, “What are-“

Eve turns to Villanelle.

“Get in!”

“Hey!” Villanelle growls with angry eyes.

“Oh,” Eve quickly lowers the gun.

Villanelle hobbles for the driver’s side.

“No, get in the back.”

Villanelle scowls defiantly, “No.”

“You’re not driving!” Eve yells at her.

Villanelle grunts and limps around to the passenger side. The woman watches them entirely perplexed. She pulls out her phone.

Eve jogs over to her, “Hey, hey! Give me that.”

The woman holds it out, fear in her eyes. Eve snatches it and heaves it down the sidewalk as far as she can.

“What are you doing? Just get in!” Villanelle shouts from the car.

Eve runs over and jumps in, slamming the door behind her. She hits the gas and peels out.

\--------

Eve drives wildly. Fast but not too fast. Villanelle stares at her, hunched over the wheel, eyes frantic.

“You are being so crazy right now.”

Eve looks over, “Well how do you want me to be?”

“Focus on the road!”

They travel over the Waterloo Bridge, the city lights glistening on the dark water of the Thames. Eve swerves to the far lane closest to the edge.

“Roll down your window.”

“What? Why?”

Eve glares at her with unrestrained eyes. Villanelle swiftly hits the button.

Eve slips the gun out awkwardly, letting her foot off the gas as she has to wiggle around to pull it out from under her jacket. She slings it in front Villanelle out the window. It lands on the asphalt not even remotely close to making it over the edge.

She slams the brakes; Villanelle throws her arm up to brace herself on the dashboard.

“Are you serious?" Villanelle scowls. "You were never going to make that!”

Eve throws up her hands, “Well I don’t know what-”

“I could have thrown it!”

Villanelle unbuckles her seat belt with a frustrated grunt and throws the door open.

Eve unbuckles, “Get back-“

“No! You’d probably still miss from two meters away.”

Eve pushes back her curls and looks up the road anxiously as Villanelle shambles towards the gun. She flicks on the hazard lights.

Villanelle shakes her head and grumbles as she retrieves the gun from the pavement, the metal cold in her hands. She gazes at it.

Eve watches her in the mirror, headlights approaching.

She leans out the window, “Hurry up!”

Villanelle opens the magazine, two bullets inside. She locks it back in place.

Her breath grows louder in her ears.

She stares down at the Glock, running her fingers across the metal as she thinks.

Decides.

She looks back at the car and Eve’s figure inside, her dark eyes swirling with desolation, a look of dejection on her face. She swallows back emotions and hobbles towards the edge.

Eve watches through the back window, her brow furrowed in agony, tortured by what she sees.

Villanelle stands against the railing and bounces the gun in her hand, her heart beating harder. She takes a deep breath and holds it up.

Eve reaches for the door handle, her heart racing wildly.

Villanelle heaves the gun over the side, sending it plunging to the dark depths below.

Eve lets out a sigh of relief, releasing her grip on the cushion, her knuckles white. She falls back in her seat, eyes never leaving the side mirror as she watches Villanelle hobble back to her.

\--------

**WATERLOO STATION**  
[Far from Here - Unloved]  
A box of bandages sits on the bathroom counter, wrappers scattered next to it along with a small bottle of vodka and a container of Co-codamol.

Eve applies a second butterfly bandage to the gash above Villanelle’s eyebrow.

She strokes her cheek, “There.”

Villanelle pulls her hair out of the loose bun.

“Well?”

Eve appraises her.

Her blonde hair is wild, her face is black and blue, one eye is nearly swollen shut, and an “I <3 London” T-shirt is now tied around her leg.

“I’ve seen you look better,” Eve grins.

Villanelle looks in the mirror and sighs, very unhappy with her reflection. Eve looks at Villanelle’s reflection then her own. Her eyes catch the “Toilet Out of Order” sign posted on the last stall. She smiles to herself.

Villanelle sulks and frowns at Eve. Eve smiles at her sweetly as she shrugs her jacket off and tosses it on the counter then starts to pull off her turtle neck.

Villanelle’s eyes get big, “What, here? Now? When I’m like this?”

Eve shoots her a vexed look.

“You can’t walk around looking like that,” she gestures at the slash on Villanelle’s chest, eight bandages over it.

Villanelle looks down at her chest with a frown as Eve slips off her sweater. Villanelle stares at her with raised brows and a little grin. Eve can’t help but smile back.

“Take this off.” She undoes the buttons on Villanelle’s blazer and slips it off her shoulders. Purple bruises cover her body. “Oh…”

Eve runs her hands over the welts on Villanelle’s ribs; she flinches.

“Be gentle.”

Eve looks into her soft eyes. She nods and tenderly caresses her face.

“I’ll take care of you,” she pets her cheek, “Don’t worry.”

Villanelle nuzzles into Eve’s hand. Eve’s eyes lighten. She hands Villanelle her velvety sweater.

“Here.”

Villanelle looks at her with coy, submissive eyes. Eve grins and pulls it over Villanelle’s head then helps her get each arm through with some difficulty. She shrugs on Villanelle’s blazer and buttons it, the sleeves slightly too long for her arms.

They look in the mirror. Villanelle in the velvet turtle neck, Eve in the sequined deep-V blazer.

Villanelle tugs at the high collar.

“I’m still beautiful.”

Eve smiles lovingly at her, “Always.”

Villanelle huffs a grin and looks at Eve with hazel eyes. Eve pulls train tickets out of her jacket and hands one to her.

“Manchester?” she looks at Eve with raised brows.

“Always have a fallback,” Eve grins. She takes Villanelle’s hand, “Come on.”

\-------- [3 A.M. on Russell Avenue – Unloved]

**ROME**  
Mariella strides up a flight of stairs then out the door to the rooftop.

Stars gleam in the night sky.

The blades of a helicopter start to spin slowly as she glides up to it, buttoning her jacket. Her phone rings once. She checks it.

A smile spreads across her face.

She lets out a laugh.

Then another.

She runs her hand over her head as her jaw drops, eyes fixed on the screen. She beams and rubs the back of her neck, blinking away tears as she gazes up at the sky. She shakes her head smiling then climbs into the helicopter.

She dials a number.

**LA CONDAMINE, MONACO**  
Korzhev grins then tosses his phone into a black duffel bag. He heaves it into the water then runs down to the end of the dock.

He expertly unties ropes and hops on the back of a jet ski then kicks off the dock and glides away, the moon reflecting off the black water.

**NEW YORK CITY**  
Baila throws her phone down a storm drain. She pops her collar with a smile then whistles sharply and hails a taxi from the sidewalk.

She slides into the seat.

“JFK.”

**SOUTHWARK**  
Jess jumps out of her chair; chips go flying.

“Oh my God!”

She stares at the screen in disbelief.

Bear looks up, his mouth hanging open.

“Wow. It’s…”

He chuckles and looks over at her. She beams wide. 

They both stare back at the screen.

**CAIRO**  
Arnau speeds down the street on the dirt bike. He slows as he approaches the moving truck up ahead, riding up the ramp and coming to a screeching halt inside.

A man pulls down the rolling door then smacks the side of the truck twice.

It rumbles away.

**GANJA, AZERBAIJAN**  
Dariush jumps out of the back of a slow-moving pickup truck. He runs towards the small propeller plane on the tarmac and climbs up the wing then hops into the cockpit.

He flips switches on the dashboard and starts the engine. The propellers chug and start to rotate.

He slips on headphones with a grin.

**BUENOS AIRES**  
Thaís slows the boat to a stop, not far from shore. She snaps the buckles of a life jacket then pulls the straps tight.

She scales to the top of the cabin and smiles at the glistening water. She jumps off the boat and lands in the ocean with a splash.

**SOUTHWARK**  
Elena jumps up and down on the sidewalk cheering and beaming wide.

“Oh my God, Carolyn!”

Carolyn nods faintly as she stares off into the darkness unsmiling, a somber look on her face and distance in her eyes.

**SANTORINI**  
Yasaman scurries down narrow flights of stairs to a dock at the bottom of the cliff.

Flashlights shine around behind her.

She steps into a small speed boat. Another woman holds it to the dock.

Yasaman unwraps a headscarf from her face to unveil a big smile. The woman grins and steers the boat out to open waters.

**KYIV**  
Marion hobbles down the long corridor, one hand on the wall keeping herself upright. She grimaces as she shuffles slowly, panting.

Her phone rings. She answers wearily.

“Hang in a little longer, okay?”

She smiles at Mariella’s sweet voice.

“Evac will be there soon.”

Marion nods with a grin as tears come to her eyes.

**TOKYO**  
Okuda straddles a scooter in an underground parking garage. She clips on a helmet then starts the engine and zips up the ramp to the street.

The sun peeks over the horizon, rays of orange light shining in the dawn sky.

**NOT LONDON**  
Eve and Villanelle sit next to each other on the train, Villanelle all cozied up next to Eve, head resting on her shoulder.

Eve’s phone rings once. She pulls it out.

A voicemail from Carolyn.

“Eve. Enjoy your time with Villanelle. Find me when you’re ready for phase two.”

She scrunches her brow and looks over at Villanelle, eyes closed, face soft. She grins, feeling a deep warmness.

Her phone beeps again. She reads the screen.

She lets out a laugh, “Oh my God.”

She stares at her phone a crazed look on her face.

“Oh my God!”

Villanelle sits up sleepily, “What?”

Eve can hardly form words.

She stammers, “I-, uh-“

Villanelle wakes up, “What?”

Eve hands her the phone. Villanelle reads the screen.

**OPERATION ODESA EXECUTED**

Villanelle sighs out a laugh. Her jaw drops. They smile at each other, eyes wide with disbelief. They laugh.

Then laugh some more.

“We did it!” Villanelle shouts.

“We did it!” Eve yells.

They cackle.

“We did it!” Villanelle yells louder.

“We did it!” Eve screams.

The passengers nearby look at them like they’re insane.

Eve and Villanelle beam at each other, tears forming in their eyes. Eve grabs Villanelle and pulls her in. Villanelle wraps her arms around her, burying herself in her curls. Her body shakes as she sobs. Eve grabs her tighter crying too.

They hold on to each other, sharing a moment of utter relief as lights fly by in the darkness outside the window.

They break away.

Eve gently holds Villanelle’s face. She grins, furrowing her brow to try to stifle the tears. Eve smiles and rests her forehead against Villanelle’s.

They close their eyes.

“It’s over,” Eve tells her.

“It’s over,” Villanelle echoes.

They laugh, their breath warm on each other’s lips, their bodies trembling, their hearts racing in synchrony.

Villanelle pulls away.

She drops Eve’s phone in the cup of wine.

\--------

**UNKNOWN**  
Eve and Villanelle stumble into a small living room, Eve with bullet holes in the back of her parka, Villanelle covered in bruises with the T-shirt still tied around her leg. They plop down on the couch with a heavy sigh, completely exhausted, and fall back into the cushions closing their eyes.

They breathe together, chests rising and falling at the same time.

Eve shifts around.

Villanelle hears the release of a blade then suddenly feels the cold metal under her chin. Her eyes fly open.

She turns slowly, carefully, to face Eve.

“How did you-“

Eve presses a little harder, digging the point into Villanelle’s neck almost enough to cut her skin. Villanelle swallows, feeling the blade against her throat. She looks at Eve with abandoned eyes.

Eve stares back with a fiery look in hers. “I don’t ever want to have to chase you again.”

Villanelle lets out a wobbly relieved breath.

“You won’t have to. I promise.”

Eve removes the knife from her throat.

Villanelle gives her a stern look.

“Don’t walk away from me again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Eve retracts the blade and sets the knife on the table in front of them. Villanelle never once looks at it.

They both close their eyes and relax into the couch. Eve puts her hand on Villanelle’s leg; Villanelle grabs it and squeezes it.

“What do we do now?” Eve asks without opening her eyes.

Villanelle shrugs.

“Want to watch a movie until we fall asleep?”

Eve looks over at Villanelle. She shakes her head slowly then gets to herself to her feet with a cringe.

She gazes at Eve, eyes drained.

“Stand up.”

Eve furrows her brow, a jolt of adrenaline surging through her with those words. She doesn’t move.

“Stand up,” Villanelle urges her.

Eve rises slowly, her troubled eyes never leaving Villanelle’s.

They stand there, staring into each other.

“I want to dance.”

Eve grins, “I thought-“

“Just. Please.”

Eve smiles and nods. She shrugs off her jacket.

“Okay.”

[Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby – Cigarettes After Sex]

Villanelle takes Eve’s hand and leads her around the couch to the open space behind.

She glides her hand to Eve’s shoulder as Eve slides hers around her waist.

They melt into one another.

Eve squeezes Villanelle’s hand. She squeezes back.

They sway to their own beat, holding each other securely.

Eve closes her eyes; Villanelle closes hers. She nuzzles into Eve’s curls, inhaling her scent. Eve pulls her in closer.

Their bodies fit in place.

Their breath slows.

Their heartbeats align.

Eve rests her head against Villanelle; she grips her shoulder, never wanting to let go.

But she pulls away, wanting to look into Eve’s eyes, wanting to know what she’s feeling.

Eve releases her hold, following Villanelle’s lead.

Villanelle gazes at her with soft hazel eyes, Eve gazes back with tranquil brown eyes.

Eve smiles, biting her lip, tears coming to her. Villanelle grins to the side, tears hovering.

She lets go of Eve’s hand, sliding them both around her waist. Eve lets her, gliding her arms up around Villanelle’s neck.

Villanelle wraps her arms all the way around Eve, pulling her in. Their bodies press against one another.

They rest their foreheads together, slowing their swaying.

A tear streams down Villanelle’s cheek. Eve grins, a tear falling down hers.

Villanelle furrows her brow, unable to stop more tears from coming. Eve nods, letting the tears come to her too.

She sighs out a quivering breath. Villanelle nuzzles her head against Eve’s, making her smile.

Eve nestles against her grinning, feeling her warm body on hers. Villanelle lets out a breathy laugh as grips Eve harder.

“We’re free, Oksana.”

Villanelle’s breath shakes.

“Eve.”

Eve holds her tighter; Villanelle digs her nails into her. She closes her eyes, her body quivering as tears fall down her cheeks. Eve scrunches her brow and nods against Villanelle’s forehead, sobbing.

They cry in each other’s arms.

Then Eve glides her hands to Villanelle’s face, holding her gently. Villanelle runs her nose against Eve’s.

Eve smiles and leans in, her still lips meeting Villanelle’s.

She kisses her tenderly, lovingly, fully embracing the moment.

Villanelle kisses back softly, sweetly, letting her feelings wash over her.

They kiss a gentle, amorous kiss.

Eve nips Villanelle’s lip and smiles at her. Villanelle grins back.

They gaze into each other’s teary eyes.

All the way through to the light.

[Xpectations - Unloved]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE STILL MY HEART
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and encouragement. This fic would not be possible without you!
> 
> Google. I simply have no words.
> 
> I’ll be posting some closing comments in the next few days (which will be chapter 10).
> 
> This is officially then end of Hello Darkness
> 
> Again thank you so much for being amazing readers! Did you like how it ended??


	9. CREDITS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some closing comments and BONUS MATERIAL

**Closing Comments**

I feel like Villanelle in the S3 finale – “I’ve killed so many people” – 35 from start to finish

There are these horrific alternate endings in my head where Eve kills Villanelle or vice versa, but I honestly don’t think either of them would do that at this point. They’ve come too far together and both chose each other in the end.

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby is one of my favorite songs and I was thrilled that I got to end this fic with it.

The amount of times I had to watch Charlize Theron get the shit beat out of her in Atomic Blonde to create the fight scenes was unfortunate. Those scenes were SO hard to write and I really went out of my comfort zone with them. They were supposed to be very intense and back and forth at first then slower as the characters fatigued. I hope they weren’t horribly choppy and impossible to read.

Marion was originally supposed to die (but I somehow became very emotionally attached to her) so I couldn’t go through with it.

A lot of the operatives were supposed to die actually but I figured killing The Twelve was more than enough for one chapter.

I fucked up and forgot about daylight savings time when I added the time zones to the target profiles so…the operatives got their target profiles then daylight savings time hit

Last thing, it was hard to pick a number for how many people Villanelle has killed throughout her life. I might have guessed a little high? Is 60 too much??

That’s it for comments on the finale. More importantly.

** THANK YOU **

A huge THANK YOU to my readers! Thank you for being patient with me while I figured out my style, tone, and voice. It’s crazy to look back and see how much my writing changed from the first chapter to the last. And thank you for leaving me supportive comments! You have no idea how much those mean to me. Knowing that there are people out there who enjoy reading this really helped me stay motivated to finish.

**BONUS MATERIAL**

**Deleted Scenes**

Yes I started to keep these in a separate doc after the third chapter because some of them were kind of funny.

**Now What?**  
The scene between Konstantin and Kenny on the roof was a lot longer at first and went in a totally different direction but I later realized it was garbage and cut almost all of it.

**We Need A Plan**  
Eve leans in, resting her arms on the table.

“What are you feeling?”

Villanelle ponders this for a moment.

“Warm. And wet.”

Yeah I had wet at first then cut it (LOL)

**There Will Be Blood**  
An extra scene after Eve asked Audrey for a cup of tea. I cut it because it was just fluff.

“Can I get a cup of tea?" Eve loosens her cashmere scarf, "I was freezing my tits off walking over here.”

“What kind?”

Eve shrugs, “I mean they’re all the same right?”

Audrey and Bear exchange a glance.

\----

Audrey arrives with Eve’s very hot cup of tea.

Eve looks down at the purple liquid with a creased brow, very unsure of it.

“What is this?”

“Passion fruit.”

Eve’s shoulders drop with disappointment, “Oh.”

**Safety Off**  
When Villanelle and Irina are driving to the secondary location after Villanelle broke her out of the detention center.

Villanelle turns on the radio.

[Just Can’t Get Enough – Depeche Mode]

She hums and sings along off-key.

And another of them in the car.  
Irina makes eye contact with Villanelle in the rearview.

“I’m hungry.”

“There’s a power bar in the bag.”

“I ate it.”

“And you’re still hungry?” Villanelle’s eyes get big in disbelief.

“I’m growing!” Irina defends herself.

“Not upwards.”

“Hey!”

**Like You, Baby**  
A phone conversation between Villanelle and Konstantin before Eve comes home to Villanelle after killing Jamie. (This was written after a request by a reader but I think it belongs here in the official deleted scenes section.)

Villanelle lies in bed staring up at the ceiling, her phone sitting on her chest. She’s called Eve non-stop for the past hour. She even brought the phone in the shower with her.

It rings. She answers before the ringtone even gets to the second go around.

“Hi Eve.”

“Villanelle,” Konstantin’s gruff voice throws her off.

She sits up.

“How did you get this number?”

“What happened in Moscow, Villanelle?”

His irritated tone only amuses her.

“Mm, you have to be more specific. I’ve done a lot of things in Moscow.”

“You know what I am talking about.”

She climbs out of bed and wanders around the flat.

“Mmm…”

“Why did you give her to Hélène? How could you do that? She is just a child.”

“Technically she is a teenager.”

Konstantin huffs.

“Okay,” she draws out the word. “So I gave her to The Twelve. She will be fine.”

“You promise me you wou-“

“I was very careful not to promise anything.”

A long silence fills the space between them.

“Villanelle, why did you do this? To me, to her, after all-”

“Wooow. That is really the approach you are going to take? I am helping her. Irina would have never survived in prison.”

She barks a laugh at the thought as she hops up on the counter.

“They would-“

“The Twelve are going to make her into an assassin and you took and ruined my only chance to save her!” he hisses.

“You are the reason she is with them, Konstantin.”

“She was never supposed to know this kind of life. Never supposed-“

“She killed two people, on her own. You really think she didn’t want some part in it?”

Konstantin takes a long pause to settle his emotions.

“I treated you like family, try to help you-“

“Family? Really, Konstantin? You never treated me like family.”

She hops down.

“Mm well, maybe you did. You abandoned your daughter and your wife, and you abandoned me, so.”

“I tried to save you, from yourself. From Eve and-“

“No.” Her neck twitches. “You don’t get to talk about Eve. She is the good in my life. You don’t get to try to take her away from me anymore.”

“You don’t know what is good for you, Villanelle. She will-“

“Eve loves me. She is all I care about now.”

“She is-“

“You are nothing to me, Konstantin. I don’t care about you or your family or what happens to them.”

“Vill-“

“I should have killed you in Moscow, in front of your daughter.”

He sighs into the phone.

Villanelle lets out a laugh, “Marion will have fun with her. Hopefully she can control her temper but Irina is really annoying, so…” she sucks in a breath, “I don’t know how long she’ll be able to.”

Konstantin swallows.

“You know Carolyn really should have shot you when she had the chance. I would have liked to watch.”

She hangs up and sighs out a long breath with wide eyes. She stares off for a minute, processing what just happened.

She shakes it off and calls Eve again, wandering around as it rings.

It goes to voicemail.

“Eve, come home. I’m bored.”

**Are You Nervous?**  
After the meeting with Eve, Villanelle, Marion, Carolyn, and Elena.

Marion eyes Elena as she smirks.

Carolyn interrupts the tension, “Thank you for your report, Marion.”

Marion slides her dark eyes over to Carolyn.

“Avec plaisir.”

When Eve arrives at The Court.  
(I was so tempted to have her refer to Villanelle as her wife but that might have ruined the surprise that Villanelle was there too if you weren’t already expecting it. And the blue sapphire ring still got its appearance in the next chapter.)

The coat check attendant greets Eve.

“Good evening madam. May I ask who you are with tonight?”

Eve exudes confidence.

“My wife. Oh I see her right there,” she waves to no one convincingly.

There’s a deep blue sapphire ring on her finger to play the part.

It is certainly not her wedding ring.

“She’s already mad that I’m late.”

He smiles, “May I take your coat?”

“Please.”

Eve shrugs it off and the man takes it. He gives her a stub.

“Enjoy your evening.”

A scene after Irina kills Kristóf – I cut it because it was long and not really that exciting. 

Marion leads Irina back to the study. She assesses her with black energized eyes.

“How did it feel?”

“Harder to stab,” Irina says without meeting Marion’s gaze.

Marion chuckles, “You impressed them.”

Irina looks up expectantly at Marion, seeking approval from her.

“What did you think?”

Marion crosses her arms.

“You cannot end up covered in blood every time you kill someone.”

Irina’s shoulders drop some.

Marion clenches her jaw, “But you surprised him and he was not able to fight back. So it was sufficient.”

Irina smirks, regaining confidence.

Marion cuts her off before she can speak, “But not at all better than the way I would have done it.”

“You doubted me.”

“No. I trained you. You should never make any mistakes. If you do they will be your own.”

Marion nods at the fireplace, “Take off your shirt, throw it in.”

Irina’s smugness suddenly disappears as she becomes self-conscious.

Marion rolls her eyes and growls. She turns her back to Irina.

“There is another hanging for you on the door,” she says over her shoulder.

Irina slips her shirt off and tosses it into the flames.

“Get all the blood off your hands, and from under your nails.”

“Yeah I know,” Irina replies with attitude. This is assassin basics.

Marion heads for the door.

“Don’t be late, you will miss dessert.”

**Force of Habit**  
When Eve and Villanelle are fighting at home about the operation.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t let it go.” Eve groans, “It won’t stop eating at me.”

Eve realizes her grave mistake only after the words have come out.

Villanelle sits up in bed, the kimono barely closed.

“You what else could be-“

“No.” Eve closes her eyes and chuckles. She fights the impulses. “Don’t.”

Yeah so my head was in the gutter on this one

**Goofs**  
So Villanelle’s London flat definitely doesn’t have an island counter with the sink in it…I thought it did and that was the only way the scene where Eve throws the knife at her can work. So…Villanelle had some remodeling done when she bought the apartment from The Twelve (because they owned it in season 2?) using an alias sometime after Rome…probably the name Maria

**Stuff I Stole from the Books**  
Yes I have read all of them

The most obvious: “Operation Odesa” – it’s vastly different in the books but the name I stole

Villanelle (and Marion) wearing colored contacts – could you imagine Villanelle with blue eyes!?

Using the military alphabet for the operatives (HOTEL, KILO, NOVEMBER) – foxtrot is one of my favorite words I think

Making Villanelle be from Perm

**Outfit Inspirations**  
**Now What?**  
[Bridge Outfits](https://www.amc.com/shows/killing-eve/talk/2020/06/stream-the-shocking-killing-eve-season-3-finale-now) that ended up on Villanelle's floor (that scene feels like a lifetime ago)

**We Need A Plan**  
Villanelle’s [Pink Satin Suit](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/dolce-gabbana-silk-satin-one-button-jacket-prod226350106) and [Valentino Rockstud Heels](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried%20e-garavani-rockstud-leather-caged-pump-prod198520213)

Eve’s Emerald-Green Blouse is a combo of: [This](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/66850375696167868/) and [That](https://www.lulus.com/products/good-luck-charm-dark-green-short-sleeve-button-up-top/660782.html) with the whole outfit being inspired by “That”

**There Will Be Blood**  
Villanelle’s [Strappy Leather Harness Bra](https://kawaiibabe.com/products/gothic-harness) (with something underneath of course!) and her [Leather Garter Belt with Cinches](https://www.aliexpress.com/i/4000342860431.html) (the censoring on these images really makes me laugh)

I have to point out that Villanelle was mostly covered by this [Leather Trench Coat](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/frame-leather-trench-coat/product/0400096476708?R=190410126343&P_name=Frame&Ntt=frame+leather+trench+coat&N=0) for this scene

Phoebe Waller-Bridge said in an article somewhere that Villanelle never uses her beauty to complete a kill so I wanted to try to stay true to that

Villanelle’s [Black Kimono Featuring a Yin-Yang Made of Wolves](https://www.zaful.com/drop-shoulder-oriental-wolf-graphic-kimono-cardigan-puid_4676407.html) (longer in length)

**Safety Off**  
Eve’s [Valentino Parka](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/down-jackets_cod82673811885596.html)

Villanelle’s [Black and Red Striped Suit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/423549539952930259/) (oh hi Margot Robbie)

[THE Knife](https://slash2gash.com/products/diablo-stiletto-automatic-knife-milano-switchblade-marble-white-pearl)

**Like You, Baby**  
Villanelle’s [Black Camo Bomber Jacket](https://gearfrost.com/products/black-camouflage-print-mens-bomber-jacket?_pos=1&_sid=2874e422f&_ss=r&variant=22908982460474) with [Orange Lining](https://hustlestatebrands.com/products/crosswinds-bomber-jacket?_pos=1&_sid=982c5c88f&_ss=r&variant=31016486928458)

Villanelle’s [Crimson Kimono with the Gold Dragon](https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/432064157999658435/)

**Are You Nervous?**  
Villanelle’s [Black and White Pinstripe Suit](https://www.pinterest.ch/pin/263531015672367762/) with [Balenciaga Boots](https://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/p/%20toried%20e%20-moon-60mm-square-toe-zip-booties-prod157650226)  
(I think Villanelle could really pull this look off)

Carolyn’s [High Collar Wool Coat](https://modesens.com/product/burberry-women-black-wool-coat-2792097/) (but in charcoal grey)  
Carolyn has so many coats – I only bookmarked this one

Hélène’s [Black Suit](http://www.officesalt.com/best-tailored-suit-outfits-for-women/best-tailored-suit-outfits-for-women41/) (tailored to perfection)

Villanelle’s [Black Alexander McQueen Suit](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/alexander-mcqueen-classic-double-breasted-suiting-blazer-prod218690503) (but velvety with a white blouse underneath and a narrow tie) and her [Jimmy Choo Pumps](https://www.fwrd.com/product-jimmy-choo-anouk-120-suede-pumps/JIMM-WZ9/)  
(damn Villanelle)

Eve’s [Black Stella McCartney Dress](https://weselectdresses.com/product/stella-mccartney-naomi-embellished-mesh-cady-black-beige-gown/) (but with a high slit in the leg) and her [Christian Louboutin Suede Pumps](https://www.net-a-porter.com/en-us/shop/product/%20toried%20e-louboutin/so-kate-120-suede-pumps/988265)  
(Eve would be looking fine as hell in this)

Marion’s [Dark Black Outfit](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/fashionshow/women/pap-fall-winter-2020-21) in Budapest (some combo of look 38 and 57)  
(fashion is so weird??)

[Christian Louboutin Velvet in Matte Rouge](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried%20e-louboutin-rouge-louboutin-velvet-matte-lip-colour-lipstick-prod178800053?childItemId=NMC1TQK_)

**Force Of Habit**  
I hope one day the hardest decision I have to make is whether to wear Fendi, Valentino, or Givenchy

Eve’s [Cashmere Turtle Neck](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried%20e-cashmere-silk-turtleneck-sweater-prod229340116) (in olive-green NOT pink – God could you imagine Eve in pink?? LOL) and her [Valentino Boots](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried%20e-garavani-20mm-rockstud-chelsea-booties-prod229340244)  
(like Elena I would also kill someone for these boots)

Villanelle’s [Black Balmain Jumpsuit](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried-classic-double-breasted-wool-blazer-prod188120024) but make it a jumpsuit like [This](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried-metallic-striped-wrap-jumpsuit-prod230340772) and her ridiculous [YSL Heels](https://www.ysl.com/sg/shop-product/women/shoes-ysl-heel-shoes-opyum-sandals-in-leather-and-studs-with-black-heel_cod11745947xu.html)

Villanelle’s [Purple Kimono with White Cranes](https://www.en-kimono.jp/product/223) (the woman modeling this is fantastic)

(fun fact cranes mate for life!)

**There’s No Time Left For Games**  
Eve’s last look:  
The [Black Turtle Neck](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/%20toried%20e-cashmere-silk-turtleneck-sweater-prod229340116) (this again but in BLACK because Eve is full DARK mode here) and her [Balmain Combat Boots](https://www.farfetch.com/shopping/women/%20toried-ranger-logo-plaque-boots-item-15389156.aspx?storeid=10344) (I don’t know if Eve would wear these but I made her because they were too sexy to pass up)

Villanelle’s last look:  
The [Saint Laurent Black Sequined Deep-V Suit](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/saint-laurent-sequined-deep-v-jumpsuit-prod229030047) (but as a suit because Eve has to wear the blazer at the end) and the [Saint Laurent Black Army Boots](https://www.net-a-porter.com/en-us/shop/product/saint-laurent/army-leather-ankle-boots/1265582)

**Guns**  
The pistols all kind of look the same to me but I bookmarked them so here they are!

[Glock 17](https://us.glock.com/en/pistols/g17)

[Beretta PX4 Storm](https://grabagun.com/beretta-px4-9mm-4-bl-2-17rd.html)

[Heckler and Koch VP9](https://hk-usa.com/hk-models/vp9/)

[Sig Sauer P320 Xfull](https://www.sigsauer.com/store/p320-xfull-size.html)

[Magnum Desert Eagle](https://www.magnumresearch.com/desert-eagle-mark-xix/)

[Konstantin’s Revolver](https://www.armscor.com/firearms/ria/revolver-series/m206-spurless-38-special/)

[Arnau’s Automatic Gun (Draco)](https://www.centuryarms.com/mini-draco-pistol.html) (I think this gun is in all action movies ever)

**Jewelry**  
[Buccellati Opera Necklace](https://us.buccellati.com/en/jewelry/icona/opera-gold/opera-necklace-7) (that Villanelle made Eve take off because it was “too memorable”)

[Buccellati Vega Set](https://us.buccellati.com/en/high-jewelry/unica/vega-set)  
I know Villanelle has a lot of money but does she have THIS much money I don’t know ($1,235,000 are you fucking kidding me)

[Vertical Gold Bar Necklace](https://www.bluenile.com/vertical-bar-pendant-14k_62131)

[Blue Sapphire Vintage Ring](https://www.boodles.com/new-vintage-oval-sapphire-ring/) (I love love love it)

**Locations**  
The Court – it’s a real place!  
[View 1](https://tempusmagazine.co.uk/news/as-new-private-members-club-the-court-prepares-to-open-harry-mead-tells-us-how-he-turned-his-vision-into-reality)  
[View 2](https://restaurantandbardesignawards.com/talks/the-court-london-uk-3stories)

[Ice Rink at Somerset House](https://londonist.com/london/christmas-in-london/skate-at-somerset-house-ice-rink-2019)

[Red Square Moscow Ice Rink](https://www.expresstorussia.com/news/gum-skating-rink-in-the-red-square-has-opened-for-the-2019-2020-season.html)

**Cars**  
God these are sexy

Marion drove a [Black Aston Martin](https://media.astonmartin.com/%E2%80%8Baml-1-onyx-black-2/) to pick up Hélène from the hospital in Scotland

Hélène drove a [Black Mercedes-Benz](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/124341639698358612/) when she swooped Konstantin in Moscow

A [Dark Grey Audi](https://reforma-uk.com/case_study/2016-audi-r8-matte-dark-grey-wrap/) picked Hélène up after she shot the tires of the Mercedes out

Marion picked up Villanelle in a [Black FIAT Spider](https://www.cnet.com/roadshow/pictures/2019-fiat-124-spider-abarth-review/7/)

Villanelle got dropped off at the detention center in a [Mercedes-Benz G Class](https://www.bhbenz.com/inventory/new-2020-mercedes-benz-g-class-g-550-all-wheel-drive-4matic-suv-w1nyc6bj0lx360327)

Yevgenia drove a [White Hyundai Solaris](https://www.motor1.com/photo/1779911/2017-hyundai-solaris/) (Villanelle later drove one after breaking Irina out)

The other car during the Moscow car exchange was a [Grey Lada Niva](https://www.motor1.com/photo/4581836/obnovlennaya-lada-4x4/)

Marion’s [Black Kawasaki Ninja](https://planokawasakisuzuki.com/Motorcycles-Kawasaki-Ninja-650-ABS-2020-Plano-TX-4c98f6d1-92f8-4736-9279-aae00035a06f)

Marion killed for this [Red Ducati](https://ducatiboston.net/Motorcycles-Ducati-Streetfighter-V4-2020-Medford-MA-2e8cff0f-220e-4ddd-8891-aaf60055d5ab)

Konstantin gets in a [Black Jaguar](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/316940892511760755/) in London

Carolyn and Konstantin meet in a [Mercedes-Benz](https://carbuzz.com/cars/mercedes-benz/s-class-coupe/2019) in the finale  
(which by the way did Konstantin actually die??)

**Top Google Searches**  
The real love story is between Google and I (but it’s mostly from my end)

co codamol uk no prescription

british slang words

british candy

what is cctv

can you dive with a life jacket on

fully automatic guns

british swear words

can you watch cctv live

how to escape choke hold from behind

bicyclist being clotheslined

how loud is a silenced sniper

can snipers shoot at night

do security cameras record sound

why are they called manila envelopes

which country is the best at espionage

countries with no extradition

do french people eat crepes

major arteries

how hard is a six minute mile

what side do you keep someone on in a fight

how to say drunk in british slang

most expensive champagne

how common is it to speak multiple languages

shanks made in prison

define smutty

chemical reactions that make poisons

chemical reactions that make poisonous gas

how are military operation names chosen

how tall is camille cottin

is british a nationality

define shag

do people drink mimosas in other countries

the most poisonous compounds

fastest acting poisons

is bullet proof glass really bullet proof

sandra oh golden globe dress

how to manipulate people

why is paris so overrated

what is something that is really big

what causes strokes in young person

how do you say love birds in french

liliana rizzari

fencing terminology

jodie comer accent

types of british accents

do you drink whiskey cold

can fencers get stabbed

what big cats fight each other

russian swear words

what do secret intelligence agents do

really venomous snakes

coolest looking snakes

how do snakes lure prey

how to kill a poisonous snake

vx lethal dose

lethal nerve agents

lethal neurotoxins

how fast does injected botulinum toxin kill

is curare lethal

ng to g

poison that causes instant death

Rare photo of Eve and Villanelle in the [WILD](https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2020/07/mithun-h-black-panther/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a final farewell:  
> Tell me your favorite kill? Favorite scene or moment? Favorite line?
> 
> Or something you hated? Something that was cliché? A plot hole I completely missed?
> 
> Find me on Twitter if you want to chat: @daydreaming_KE


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